


Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady

by itcanprobablysmellfear



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, Knight Adora (She-Ra), Minor Character Death, Princess Catra (She-Ra), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itcanprobablysmellfear/pseuds/itcanprobablysmellfear
Summary: After burying her mentor, Adora the knight is adrift in the world, seeking a sense of self and direction. Princess Catra of Halfmoon is isolated in a fortress, save for a dying mother and nefarious lord. A crumpled letter will begin their journey to right the wrongs plaguing their two kingdoms - and place them on the path towards finding each other.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 188





	1. A knight in shining armor hath not their mettle tested

**Author's Note:**

> So, those of you who've read my previous stories...THIS is the long fic I've been talking about. I really hope you all enjoy it! It's the first multi-chaptered story I've written and I've been working really hard on it. Let me know your thoughts/feelings/general vibes!

The dirt had yet to settle over Mara’s grave, and Adora was already gone. Swift Wind saddled, bag packed, the old knight’s sword securely attached to her hip. The house finished burning down long before Mara was in the ground, and by the time the deed was done, all that remained was smoldering ash.  _ I’m never going to come back _ , she thought as sweat poured down her brow, earth cascading over her shoulder when she carved out her caregiver’s final resting place.  _ Even if this doesn’t work out, and I’m rejected...I’m never coming back here. So why leave anything behind? _

Each pull of her muscles, each protest of her shoulders, each callus breaking open on the rough grip of the shovel felt like an act of atonement to the woman lying cold and still beside the crumbling abode. Adora made the grave marker once the hole was dug, face smooth and heart empty as she roughly engraved the wood in her palms.  _ Mara of Grayskull _ the crossbeam read. Her lips twitched at the brevity. Mara was never one for many words, despite how she was at the end. “Feet apart!” The older woman would bark, smacking Adora’s shins with the flat of her blade. “Stand straighter!” A jab between the blonde’s shoulder blades. “Faster! Harder! Better!  _ Do better, Adora!” _

Standing at the lip of the tomb, Mara’s shrouded body cradled to her chest, Adora was tempted to simply...drop her in.  _ I’m doing better than you, aren’t I?  _ I’m _ still alive.  _ Her hands shook.  _ If  _ you  _ were truly better than me, it would be you standing here, burying me.  _ Her eyes prickled, and she screwed them shut, banishing the weakness that threatened to spill over. But in the end, the arms that lowered the knight to her final resting place couldn’t have been gentler, the dirt pulled over as tenderly as a mother tucking in her child to sleep. Adora didn’t watch the quiet face disappear under the earth. She kept her eyes fixed down, refusing to look up until the space was mostly full and she could know, assuredly, she had looked upon Mara for the last time without being aware of the fact.  _ It’s better this way _ . Her throat felt tight.  _ Must be the smoke.  _ The deed complete, she tied down the final bags to Swift Wind’s pommel and without a backward glance she rode off to an unknowable future in Bright Moon. 

The longer Adora rode, the more the letter in her right breast pocket burned a hole in her consciousness, demanding attention, begging to be read again. The blonde wavered, full lower lip descending into a pout, before huffing and pulling out the crinkled paper. She probably memorized it at this point, but there was something about the delicate slant of the words, the way the letters stood out, aristocratic in their styling that required her witness yet again. She smoothed out the wrinkles and dove into it, each word stirring up more questions than the previous reading. 

_ Our dearest She-Ra, _

_ We offer our deepest apologies for disturbing you in your solitude, but the sovereignty of Bright Moon must call upon the banner of Grayskull once again. We would not have done so had our kingdom been under the most concerning threats. We do not know which way to turn, and humbly, desperately request your guidance.  _

_ Our daughter, Glimmer, has been in correspondence with the Princess Catra of Halfmoon, who along with her mother has been living under the protection of Lord Primus Hordak of the Fright Zone these past few years. Catra, it appears, under great threat to herself and her mother, has written of several troubling instances she has witnessed.  _ _ Whether performed by his hand or not, the acts have been at the very least accepted by the overseer of the estate. _ _ She fears for her life, and suspects he may have had a direct hand in the devastation and decemation from which we still recover. We can do nothing in our diplomatic state; to accuse would be the same as to declare war, and Bright Moon is not strong enough to withstand another conflict so soon.  _

_ Please know we only do this under the most dire of circumstances. We ask you to think of our child, and the future she and her peers must face if we fail. I understand you have accepted a ward into your presence and guidance. Think of her, and return to the capital and our friendship again.  _

_ Forever your servant, _

_ Angella of Bright Moon, Queen _

Adora sighed as her eyes drifted over the elegant signature. Mara was too far gone in her madness to answer any of the hundreds of questions that littered the blonde’s mind when she first read the letter. It was certainly too late now to ask the old knight anything, and so the questions continued to burn within her.  _ Who is Catra? Where and what are Halfmoon and the Fright Zone? What is the war this queen is referring to? And why does she call Mara ‘She-Ra’?  _ The name stirred something in the far reaches of her memory, rolling like something familiar but forgotten off of her tongue. Was it a grateful peasant, perhaps, shouting the two syllables in praise when the old knight chased the last ruffian out of town? Or maybe an elderly soldier, worn down by time and age, that they passed on the road, bowing deep and uttering the title with all the awe only reserved for royalty? But the more Adora tried to recall these meetings, the quicker they slipped from her mind. Mara never spoke to any of the inhabitants of villages they rescued, never let her ward speak to anyone either. Adora would open her mouth, and quick as a flash she would be dragged away, the older woman muttering under her breath. “We’re here to save lives, not be hero worshipped.” Frustration boiled in her chest, all the more searing that the one person who held these answers would never speak again. The blonde crumpled up the paper and stuffed it in her pocket, hoping the compelling ache to read it once more would be satiated for at least the time being.

Blue-gray eyes considered the road before her. The journey to Bright Moon was to take five days, and with no company but her thoughts and her horse, Adora was already tired. If she was honest with herself, she had  _ been  _ tired for a long time, ever since Mara first started showing signs of illness and confusion. Maybe even before then, but exhaustion was such a part of daily life under her caregiver’s tutelage it felt ingrained in her, as divisible from her person as her scars or her hair color. Storm clouds danced along the horizon, and that was enough of an excuse as any for the blonde to steer Swift Wind to a nearby copse and begin setting up camp for the night. 

Adora hummed as she gathered kindling and set to making a fire, the gentle chomping of her grazing horse a quiet harmony to her tuneless melody. She practiced her daily forms with Mara’s sword as her dinner roasted, muscles groaning pleasantly. It was easy to lose herself in the exercises, to picture attackers and how she would defend herself. An enemy combatant, charging from the front with snarling lips, swinging his sword in overhead attack. Adora would parry the assault, her opponent’s blade glancing off the forte of her own as she twists to the side to disengage their weapons. He readies himself, arms pulled back over his shoulder, preparing a blow to knock her head clean off her shoulders, but that leaves his abdomen exposed. One powerful thrust-- _ chnk! _ \--and he lies at her feet. But his friend is right behind her, she can smell his torch burning before he even...wait, burning?  _ Shit.  _ Muttering a string of curses that would make even the hardiest sailor blush, Adora knocked the now charred, crispy remnants of her meal out of the fire, frowning at its blackened carcass. 

_Foolish girl. You can’t even feed yourself properly without me._ Mara’s voice echoed despairingly in her head. _Pay better attention to the world around you. If you don’t eat, you’ll become weak. And if you become weak, you won’t be of any use to anyone._ Shame colored Adora’s cheeks as she bit into the meat, face twisting at its unappealing flavor. _Do. Better._ The old warrior’s first and most frequent lesson. To say she heard it incessantly would be an understatement. “Do better!” It was the first thing Mara barked at her every morning, and the last thing she commanded before Adora laid her head down to sleep. The blonde's scowl deepened. Even in death, Mara’s favorite lesson never ceased.

The frown tugged at the three scars decorating her jaw, and Adora’s thoughts shifted as she traced the raised tissue. That had been a particularly awful day. It was early enough in the sickness that Mara still had much of her impressive strength, but late enough where her moments of lucidity were far outnumbered by the visions brought on by the poisoned wound and subsequent fever. “Hope...there’s something wrong. I can’t...I can’t keep a hold of myself, it’s like I keep slipping away to some place I don’t know and can’t escape from...I don’t know who I  _ am _ there.” Mara’s gray eyes, once so reticent and unwavering, were wide in almost childlike panic. “I’m afraid, Hope. It’s happening more and more...wait...you’re not Hope, who are you?  _ Who are you?!” _ Adora tried to soothe, hands coming down to rub her caregiver’s wasted arms, but Mara shied away from the touch like a wild animal. “No don’t touch me, get away from me, bitch! I said  _ get away! _ ” The older woman struggled against Adora’s restraint, thrashing her body and legs, doing anything to break free. Her right wrist slipped from the young warrior’s grasp and her nails, ragged and torn, proved to be as sharp as knives as they ripped down the blonde’s cheek, spraying both their faces with red. “Get off me, get  _ off _ ! Hope!  _ Hope where are you?! _ ” 

They spent some time like this, Adora situated behind Mara in the stained bed, arms flexed around the convulsing woman as she shook and sobbed and tried everything to break free. The slowing drip of Adora’s blood onto the floor punctuated Mara’s dwindling cries of “Hope!” and “Off!” and “Don’t...don’t,” until it was the only sound in their tiny dwelling. The older woman finally worked herself to the point of exhaustion, falling into a fitful sleep in the blonde’s embrace. Quietly, and as carefully as she could, Adora extracted herself, slowly lowering the slumbering form on the pillows and rearranging the blankets.  _ I’ll wash them in the morning _ , she thought wearily, fetching a cloth and a small pail of water to gently blot the browning stains from Mara’s face. The action, too, could probably wait until morning, but Adora had washed blood off of the old knight so many times, it was almost a comfort. The familiar motion brought a smile to her lips, and she could pretend. Pretend that they had just come back from defending a village from raiders, perhaps, or maybe they met with bandits on the road who proved wiley enough to be a real challenge, and Adora was just tending to her teacher’s wounds. The next day would come, and Mara would be fine, and training would continue as usual. But the dull burn on her cheek shattered the fantasy as quickly as Adora built it. She shut her eyes to the sight of the broken, shrivelled woman before her, she cleaned her face, changed, and took her usual guard on the floor by the bed. 

The three deep gouges healed at a painstaking pace, morphing from weeping, inflamed lacerations to raised, purplish scars, and “ugly” was tacked onto the “bitch” the older woman would fling in Adora’s direction whenever she approached. The blonde never considered herself vain -  it was hard to be, in the line of work where disfigurement was as common a currency as actual payment for a job well done - but a small part of her still suffered from the insult. Adora did not mind the flaws; not owning any mirrors she could not say for certain, but she was fairly sure she was not much of a looker to begin with. Maybe they made her look braver, tougher, gave opponents pause before crossing blades with the likes of her. It was what Adora told herself then, and it was what she told herself now, as the crackling fires and Swift Wind’s snuffling between the trees lulled her to sleep. 

Four suns set and rose, and on the dawn of the fourth day Adora unpacked Mara’s armor from Swift Wind’s bags and laid it out reverently upon the grass. Her fingertips traced the tarnished vambraces, settled into the worn grooves of the cuisses and sabatons. They paused along the faded starburst decorating the chestplate, slowly sketching over its blue heart that still glistened brilliantly in the sunlight despite time and use. Adora’s heart beat feverishly in her chest. This moment, this act, of picking up and putting Mara’s armor on her body.  _ This  _ was truly the point of no return. With each piece she vested, the pit in her stomach grew deeper and deeper.  _ They’ll know. They’ll all know I’m a fraud, that I’m worthless, that I’ve done nothing to deserve this armor.  _ Mara’s helmet, the last of the costume, waited in her hands, patiently, almost expectantly. Adora gave herself a brief but thorough shake. She would either wear this armor and do what is right for the honor of her mentor, or...There was no “or.” There was no failure, no weakness. She would fulfill her purpose. End of discussion. She jammed the helmet under her arm and lept onto Swift Wind, refusing to waste another minute on these thoughts.

Adora crested the final hill and with a gasp the entirety of Bright Moon’s capital spread out before her, sparkling like a tapestry blanketing the earth. It almost looked unreal to the knight. It was too bright, too colorful, the laughter and happy chatter of the citizens filtering up as she guided Swift Wind down the rocky path to the main gate too foreign. All the moisture in her mouth evaporated as she approached the guards at the entrance, anticipating at the very least a seering interrogation, followed immediately by a rapid discovery of all her faults and failings, a summarized list of everything she has ever done wrong in her entire life. They would arrest her on the spot. She could hear their jeers now,  _ “You’re a fake, you’ve done nothing worthy,”  _ the door to her awaiting jail cell slamming shut with a thunderous echo. 

“Next!” The call jostled Adora from her catastrophic spiral, and she hurried to approach. The soldiers gave her a flat once-over, a bored look to their face as they ran through their questions. Adora had been anticipating what the guards would ask her, and so spent much of the past two days rehearsing, weighing one phrase against another with no one but her silent horse to give her feedback on what was the exact right thing to say. She stuttered the chosen words, heart fluttering in fear, but to her great surprise her answer passed, the men ushered her forward, and she was welcomed into the city. 

Instantly, Adora’s senses were overwhelmed. The intoxicating smells of unknown perfumes and mouth-watering food assailed her nostrils, mingling into a heady scent that muddled her brain. Two streets up from the main road, she heard the strumming of a guitar playing some lilting tune that made her want to tap her feet and twist her hips. From every corner, light and color exploded before her eyes in joyous celebration of existence. Before she knew it, Adora found herself simply wandering the streets, distracted by the newness of the world around her. A small gaggle of children pushed past her, knocking into her knees and ricocheting off with a giggle as they pursued a bouncing red ball, clearly the object of some game they were entertaining themselves with. One paused, eyes wide and twinkling as he took in her six-foot armored frame. “Whoa, lady!” He whispered, voice filled with awe. “Are you a knight?”

_ Shit.  _ Adora didn't know what to do with her hands or her face. Her left,  _ thankfully _ , was holding Swift Wind’s reins, so she did not have to worry about what to do with it, but her right...She slowly lifted it and awkwardly patted the child on the head, an uncomfortable grin breaking across her face,  _ because that’s what you do with kids, right? Smile and let them ask their strange questions?  _ Mara never had any patience with the children in villages they helped; she would always shoo them away. “Y-yes I am,” she tried to sound majestic, deepening her voice and puffing out her chest, but suspected she came off inflated instead. The boy took it anyway, eyes sparkling with more questions. “I’m here to see the queen to help her with a, um...special mission.” He took a deep breath and, panicking, Adora broke into a run. “I’m so sorry, but she needs to see me  _ right now _ , farewell!” 

The blonde didn’t stop until she knew there was no way the boy could catch up to her. She leaned against Swift Wind, eyes closed, begging her pulse to return to a livable pace. She needed all of her wits at the ready when it came to presenting herself to the queen. She must be impressive, collected, confident. Strong.  _ Or else _ . The image of Mara’s burning house flashed behind her eyes. Adora opened her eyes, desperately searching for something to seize her mind onto and steer it away from the incoming panic. 

As it turned out, her mad dash away from pediatric interaction brought her to the outskirts of the castle. It rose, white and shining above the smaller buildings clustered around it, a beacon of hope and justice. Adora’s heart pounded furiously in her chest as she took in its radiance.  _ It’s now or never.  _ She circled the building until she ran into a page, inquiring the directions and price of the closest stable to house Swift Wind for the time being. It was only a five minute walk away, and Adora had to smile at how kindly the stable hand talked to her horse, assured that, at least for this small measure, she had made the right decision. 

She stood at the base of the staircase leading up to the main entrance, shifting the helmet between her hands, taking one deep breath after another.  _ It’s time.  _ With a grunt, she jammed the piece over her head and marched up the stairs to the guards flanking the impressive double doors. “I seek an audience with Queen Angella, please.” Fully armored, Adora suspected she looked far more confident than she actually felt. Her heart thundered under her chest plate as the sentry read over the queen’s letter to Mara. “As you see, I’ve been summoned to help. Please let Her Majesty know I’ve arrived.”  _ It’s not  _ exactly  _ a lie,  _ the blonde considered as the young man nodded and disappeared into the belly of the castle. As she waited for his return, she reflected on the last lucid conversation she and the old knight had, the one where Mara had entrusted her with the missive.

_ “You’re my ward, Angella would be stupid to turn you away.” Mara seized the paper off the bedside table and shoved it into Adora’s hands, still strong despite all that the disease had taken from her. “You’re not ready yet, I would have liked more time with you but…” The narrow shoulders lifted. “Can’t change that now.” Dark blue eyes bore into blue-gray, the older woman holding the younger fast. “When I am gone, I want you to go to her. Take this,” one bony finger tapped the folded parchment, “and do whatever she asks of you. Help in whatever way you can.” The former knight leaned back against her pillows, face clouded over in thought, voice quiet and thick with memories Adora would never hear. “I’ve been gone too long from this world. You’re not ready, but you’re the best Etheria is going to get from me.”  _

_ Adora unfolded the message and read through it quickly, hundreds of questions springing forth from the first line alone. Her eyes only just finished scanning the valediction before the first query burst from her mouth. She wasn’t even sure what it would be, but as it turned out, it wouldn’t matter. “Mara, who is--?”  _

_ “I am tired, child.” The older woman rolled to her side, her back facing the blonde, ending the conversation. Her once-lustrous brown hair, now entirely gray and matted beyond all hope of ever becoming soft again, fell over her shoulder. Adora’s curiosity, burning so strongly just a moment before, was quickly extinguished. She watched in silence as Mara shifted the blanket around her. “We’ll talk more when I wake.”  _

But when the former knight awoke, she didn’t recognize Adora or the house around her. Words and conversation were useless too; Mara only cried or uttered weak, fearful babbles whenever the young woman approached her.  _ Tomorrow,  _ Adora intoned as she struggled to care for the frail warrior.  _ Tomorrow will be better.  _ Only tomorrow brought more of the same, and the day after that, and the day after  _ that _ , and one month later Mara was in the ground and Adora was halfway to Bright Moon with just as many questions and just as few answers.

Adora’s pulse beat in her ears when the sentry returned, ushering her to follow him down two long hallways and up a flight of stairs. He paused outside a pair of highly decorative guilt doors, slowly opening one and holding out his hand, gesturing her to enter.  _ Maybe the queen will be more forthcoming?  _ Mara always impressed upon her the foolishness of hope.  _ “It won’t put food in your belly or a sword in your hand.”  _ But all the same the blonde felt it stir in her heart as she entered the magnificent throne room of Queen Angella. 

Light streamed in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hall, reflecting off the polished marble floors and gilded chandeliers so that the whole room sparkled. Brightly dressed courtiers moved around the white stone pillars bracketing the windows, dancing in and out of the sunshine in brilliant flashes of purple, blue, and red. At the end of the hall sat a golden, winged throne, the richly upholstered back reaching higher than three men stacked one atop the other, the iridescent wings stretching nearly the whole width of the building. Seated on this architectural phenomenon was a woman clothed in purple, legs crossed, elbows resting delicately on plush armrests as she took in the supplicant crouched before her throne. 

Queen Angella. She couldn’t be much older than Mara, maybe by a handful of years, if Adora had to make a guess. But where the former knight was borne down body and soul by disease and suffering, the queen sat tall, face smooth, figure unbowed. Even from this distance, Adora saw her dark eyes were clear and full of wisdom. Her black hair hung loose over her shoulders, and what gray streaked through it only added dignity to her royal visage. She was smiling at the man crouched before her, probably some farmer asking for help if his muddy clothes were any indication. As she stood to give her decree the queen glanced up, eyes drawn down the hall and to the warrior standing at the entrance.

“She-Ra.” Even from this distance, the queen’s whisper reached Adora’s ears. As one, the entire crowd turned to look at her, a few gasping and whispering to their neighbor as the blonde marched towards the queen. 

“She-Ra, it’s She-Ra! She’s returned!” Up and down the hall the name echoed, buzzing and growing in volume until it became deafening, and Adora almost yanked off her helmet to slam her hands to her ears just to block out the confusing, infuriating words. Even as she fought with the urge, her heart sank.  _ But I’m not her _ , shame welling up with every step closer to the throne. The farmer jumped to his feet and stumbled away as she approached, taking his place, falling to one knee and bowing her head before Queen Angella.  _ Please, please don’t be too disappointed. Please let me be enough.  _

“Your Majesty.” Adora’s voice boomed, ringing slightly through the closed visor. “I have received your summons and have arrived, willing to pledge myself to you and your cause, to do what is good and necessary for the kingdom of Bright Moon.” She paused, swallowing thickly. “But before you accept me, there is something you must know...about she who wishes to serve you.” Fingers trembling, she hooked them under the rim of the helmet and slowly lifted it up and off her head, revealing her face to the queen. 

Shocked exclamations filled the room as Adora’s blonde hair - not the expected dark brown of Mara’s locks - fell free, catching on the pauldrons adorning her shoulders. She glanced up, trying to read the expression Angella’s face. Other than a tiny crease forming between her brows, the older woman was inscrutable, almost like she was expecting the young warrior instead of the original bearer of the armor. Wetting her lips, Adora continued. “My name is Adora, and I’ve been Mara’s ward these past nineteen years, learning and training to be a knight under her tutelage.” A spark of recognition danced behind the queen’s eyes. “...I buried her two weeks ago. She suffered from a sickness of the mind, and I did my best to care for her, but…but eventually it took over her body too, and there was nothing I could do.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to be strong. “Before she died, she gave me this letter and told me to come to you, your Majesty, and to devote myself to your will.” Adora trained her eyes on the floor once more. “If you would have me.” 

“We have heard of you, Adora.” The queen’s voice, crystalline as a bell, dispelled the lingering murmurs of the courtiers. “Our heart was loath to see Mara leave, but when I became aware that she had accepted a child into her care, we knew she must be someone of great character and indomitable strength.” Adora didn’t realize Angella had descended the throne until a soft palm cupped her chin, drawing her up to meet the older woman’s gentle expression. Up close, the blonde saw delicate lines fanning out around the corners of the dark eyes, the creases sketched over her forehead and around her mouth. Angella may not wear it as heavily as Mara did, but looking into her face, Adora recognized the marks of a life full of hardship and suffering. “We are so very sorry for your loss, Adora. Any friend of Mara’s is a friend of Bright Moon’s, and so we humbly and gratefully accept your aid. Please rise.” 

The warrior was much taller than the queen, and she was forced to crane her neck down as Angella continued. “You are Mara’s ward, and so heir to her title. When she walked our halls, she was known by a different name. Today, I bestow it upon you.” Lifting her arms, the royal gestured broadly as if to embrace the whole room. “The Mighty She-Ra!” There was a pause, and then the hall rang with applause and cheers. Adora blinked rapidly, face flushing as the noise grew cacophonous. A few personnel came up to ring her hand and clap her on the shoulder; one even threw their arms around her in a brief but shockingly strong hug. Strange emotion welled in her chest.  _ But...I haven’t done anything to earn your praise yet.  _ She tried to back away from their beaming faces, and found herself beset on all sides.  _ I don’t deserve any of this, it’s all just dumn luck. Dumb luck that Mara found me as a baby in a field, dumb luck that I took to the sword.  _ The room started spinning as the crowd pressed against her, her throat tightening and breathing becoming much more difficult until--

“C’mon, follow me.” A tiny hand slipped into hers, its owner leading Adora through the throng so efficiently it was like they blinked the warrior out of existence. She was shoved into a small antechamber just behind the throne, door shutting out the chattering and Adora found she could properly inhale again. A bubbly laugh tinkled from behind her, and the blonde glanced over her shoulder to look at her rescuer. “It looked like you were about to pass out!” The speaker was an extremely short young woman with black hair and light brown eyes twinkling with mischief, a matching smile twitching over her lips as she grinned at Adora. She was dressed just as richly as the queen, bedecked in pastel pink and violet instead of Angella’s royal purple shades, and between the similarity in clothing and face, Adora quickly surmised the identity of her miniature savior. 

“Princess Glimmer?” The young woman rolled her eyes at the blonde’s proper bow. 

“She doesn’t really stand for ceremony. The sooner you learn that, the less  _ ridiculous _ arguments you’ll be involved in!” A dark-skinned young man entered the small room, holding a bow in one hand and a quiver full of arrows in the other. “Did I miss anything, Glim?” 

The princess shook her head, cheeks just a touch pinker when the newcomer squeezed her shoulder in passing. “Not at all. Adora, this is Bow, our resident Master Archer.” Bow waved before pulling out a chair at a round table Adora failed to notice upon first entering the antechamber. Glimmer walked over and threw herself in the seat to his right, propping herself up on her elbows. “Bow, this is Adora, also known as She-Ra. She’s here to help us with the Catra situation.” 

“You’re  _ She-Ra?! _ ” Bow jumped to his feet, palms slamming against the table top, eyes wide in admiration. “I heard so many stories! My fathers talk about you all the time!..But how are you so young? You look like you’re our age, and I only turned twenty-three last month.” His black brows furrowed. “Who  _ are  _ you?”

Adora smiled sadly at him. “I guess you could say I’m the new She-Ra. My caretaker, Mara...she was the warrior you heard stories about. I’m…” She struggled to find the right words. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.” 

“Adora?” The knight sprang to her feet at the queen’s arrival. “No, please, sit down, we don’t need to do all that here.” Angella sat beside her, eyes gentle as she spoke. “Adora, I understand that this must be very challenging for you, but I want to thank you for coming here, and helping us. It can’t have been easy travelling all this way after such a loss.” Away from the bustle and dignity of the court, Angella seemed less formal, less rigid. The blonde found the change far from comforting. It was bad enough disappointing a queen, but this person, who spoke so kindly and warmly to a complete stranger?

Adora swallowed hard. “I had to, I needed to come here. All Mara ever wanted for me was to make something of myself, to justify the time and effort she put into me. And that’s what I want too. It would have been a disgrace to her memory if I just sat around and felt sorry for myself. I want to help, in any way I can.” 

Glimmer clapped her hands together. “Well that’s all I need!” Bow caught Adora’s eye and flashed her a wide grin. It startled her for a moment, but then she smiled back. 

“Very well then. Adora,” the queen spread out several reams of paper before her, pushing a handful in the blonde’s direction. “As you surmised from my letter to Mara, Glimmer has been in communication with Princess Catra of Halfmoon for the past few months. While her father ruled, our two kingdoms experienced great peace. There was an open exchange of friendship and goods, but after his arranged marriage to the Lady Weaver, things became...soured. Communication was less frequent, if not downright hostile, and it only got worse when the princess was born. Travel became less safe. People would go missing, skirmishes in distant towns had shockingly bloody outcomes. I believe the king began to suspect treachery from his own wife, because shortly after Catra was born, the king altered his will. His heir, and only his heir alone, would have the ruling power of Halfmoon. Lady Weaver was given a small allowance, but for the most part things would be run by the late king’s advisors. She would be allowed to sit with them during important decision makings, but it would be in name only. She would be given no real power.” She sighed deeply. “Six months after Catra’s birth, the king was discovered in his chambers, dead.” 

“No one was able to prove that Weaver killed her husband, but you don’t just  _ drop dead _ out of nowhere!” Glimmer interjected. 

Angella frowned at her daughter. “His body was found with items to suggest it was an assasination, carried out as an order from Bright Moon.” Adora’s eyes widened in shock. The queen caught her expression and shook her head. “I would never have ordered such a thing, but Lady Weaver turned Halfmoon’s advisors against us. She convinced them that we were trying to expand Bright Moon by conquering their land, and that killing their king was just a way to weaken them.” She paused, her face incredibly sad. “The poor fools. None of us were ready for the war that followed, but at least I never lied to my people.”

“We think Weaver started the war just to cover up the fact that she killed her husband,” Bow interjected. “And as a chance to seize the throne. She was jealous, you see, that the princess would get to be queen. If she helped Halfmoon win the war against Bright Moon, the people would demand that she be crowned.” 

“But it wasn’t working!” Glimmer said excitedly. “The advisors started figuring things out, started seeing through Weaver’s lies. They started making motions to arrest her for treason. She got nervous and ran away to seek refuge with Lord Primus Hordak,” she tapped the map in front of her, indicating a dot to the north of Bright Moon’s territory labeled  _ Fright Zone Keep _ , “taking Catra with her.” 

Adora frowned. “She kidnapped her own  _ daughter _ ?” She whispered, horrified, looking around the room as the three other occupants nodded. “What kind of mother would do that?” 

“One who’s a bitch.”

“Glimmer! That is no way for a princess to speak!” The tiny woman shrugged at her mother’s distress, sneaking Adora a wink when Angella pressed a hand to her forehead. Adora hesitated for just a moment, and smiled tentatively at the princess.  _ I think I’m going to like Glimmer.  _ “Regardless,” the queen began again, and the knight’s attention snapped back into focus, “it was too late, for both of our kingdoms. The war had already been going on for almost a year at that point, and too much blood had been split for either side to just...throw down their arms and walk away.” She swallowed, and Adora watched as the queen’s hands moved in her lap, her right twisting a simple golden band adorning the fourth finger on her left. 

When Angella spoke again, her voice was hollow. “Exactly one year to the day the king of Halfmoon was murdered, our armies collected and met for what was to be the final battle...by the end of the day, the dead numbered in the thousands, including…” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Including my husband and Glimmer’s father, King Micah.” 

Something behind Adora’s eyes burned and she blinked it away furiously. “I’m so sorry.” 

Glimmer jerked one shoulder. “Mother demanded a meeting with the remaining Halfmoon advisors.” She gave a soft chuckle, taping a finger against her chin. “I love imagining how their faces must have looked when she marched into their tent, eight months pregnant with me. I think they were just so shocked they agreed to everything only to make her leave!” 

"Both Halfmoon and Bright Moon’s kings were dead,” the queen stated simply. “Enough blood had been shed.” 

There was a pause, and Bow spoke. “But the thing is, it’s happening again, the patterns that preceded the war almost twenty years ago. Villages are getting attacked and citizens are getting slaughtered, both here and in Halfmoon.” 

“And then just a few months ago, I started receiving these letters from Catra.” Glimmer passed over a sheaf of papers to Adora. “She thinks Hordak is behind the bloodshed now, and before. Her arguments make sense to me. Things were bad in Halfmoon even before the king was assassinated. Weaver didn’t have the money and resources to stage upstarts, to pay mercenaries to go and attack Halfmoon citizens and make it look like Bright Moon was behind them. But  _ Hordak _ does.” 

Adora glanced down at the letters. The handwriting was graceful, the words bold and demanding of her attention, like the authoress knew what she said was of the utmost importance. 

_ To Princess Glimmer of Bright Moon, _

_ I am writing to you seeking your guidance, your advice, and if I could dare to ask so much, your help. There is unrest throughout my countryside and yours, and I have reason to believe my host, Lord Primus Hordak, is responsible for it all. I also have my suspicions that he was far more involved in the previous war than he let others believe.  _

With each sheaf, the letters grew more frantic, the lettering scrambled and hasty. Adora imagined a faceless young woman, writing as secretly and hurriedly as she could, one ear perked for the sound of approaching footsteps. 

_ Princess Glimmer, _

_ Mother’s sickness is growing worse. The doctors are of no use, and she is getting weaker by the day. I cannot find the source of the poisoning, although, even if I did locate it, I doubt she would believe me. If Hordak told her the sky was purple, she would go about repainting all the landscapes in the castle to match his “true vision.” She coughed up blood this morning.  _

The last, though, dated just one week prior to Adora’s arrival...just holding it, the blonde felt the waves of fear and panic radiating off the paper. A few tear drops littered the page, smudging the ink in the corners, but the core of the text was legible. 

_ Glimmer, _

_ I don’t know what else to do. I’m so afraid. He’s killing Mother, and the attacks against my people are getting worse. I’m hearing reports every day of more and more death. Mother doesn’t care, she never considered them her citizens but I know you feel for Bright Moon the same I do for Halfmoon. I need help. The queen, I know she cannot press charges against Hordak unless I have proof of his treason. The copies of letters and receipts I’ve forwarded to you, they’re not enough to press charges but I need help to find more. Time is running out for Mother, and once she’s  _ but the words were blurred, and Adora had to squint to make out what followed  _ Hordak will make his move against Halfmoon. I am not afraid for my own life, but my people deserve better than what suffering they will inevitably endure under his hands.  _

_ Please, Glimmer. I am begging you on my hands and knees. There is bad blood between our families, but I wish to make amends. I need to atone for the sins of my mother. I make my vow here: when I am queen of Halfmoon, our kingdoms will be allies. I will share resources, intelligence, goods, whatever Bright Moon can benefit from, I will not deny unless it is to the detriment of my citizens. But I cannot fulfill this vow until Prime answers for his crimes.  _

_ I remain always, your devoted friend and servant, _

_ Catra _

“Fright Zone Keep is a part of Bright Moon, but I cannot go around arresting citizens without due proof of guilt,” Angella said. “And besides that, Lord Hordak is independently wealthy. He can raise a mercenary army before the ink on the arrest warrant was dry.” 

Adora nodded, still staring at the letters in her hands. “She must be so scared,” she whispered, thumb brushing against the signature. Her earlier fears of being mocked and rejected by the queen were so small and foolish in the face of Catra’s plight. The longer the knight gazed at the words, the more her will turned to steel. Mara told her to go out into the world and do what was right and just; what was more right and just than helping a princess who risked her life to save her people? “What can I do?”

Angella smiled at her. “You and Bow are going to travel to Fright Zone Keep. Infiltrate the castle in some way, sign up to become a guard or volunteer to be a cook, whatever can get you inside the walls. Assist Princess Catra in any way you can to gather proof that Lord Primus Hordak helped in some significant way in the first war, or that he is behind the current raids against both of our lands. Both, if you can. Protect her and Lady Weaver. Extract them if necessary, but only if they are under immediate threat. I fear Hordak will retaliate if he suspects anything.” 

“MOTHER!” Glimmer exploded the moment her mother paused for breath. “I thought I was going to help too!”

“Glimmer, you are  _ princess _ and the  _ next queen.  _ I will not have you running around the countryside putting yourself in danger!” 

“But  _ Mother!”  _ A warm hand descended on Adora’s shoulder, and with a start she looked away from the verbal skirmish. Bow stood behind her, and with a jerk of his head he ushered them out of the antechamber. They quietly tiptoed out, mother’s and daughter’s shouting only muffling slightly when Bow closed the door. 

“Are they always like this?” Adora asked.

“Oh you have  _ no  _ idea!” The young man’s face creased with good-natured humor. “Don’t worry, you won’t get stuck with just me. I’ve seen Glim sneak past two guards, three sentries, out a window and over a balcony just to break out of curfew. She’s coming with us tomorrow.” 

The knight waited a grand total of five seconds before the archer’s words were proven true. With a roar and a kick the door flung open and out marched Glimmer, gripping a formidable battle axe tight in both hands. “We’re going!” She shrilled, rage coloring her cheeks a furious scarlet. Bow grinned at Adora and waved her to follow the tiny princess.  _ Don’t worry, Catra,  _ Adora thought, words as fervent as a prayer.  _ Help is on the way.  _

  
  
  
  



	2. My word is my honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Catra, stage right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my treasured readers! Little note before we start - there's a scene involving brief physical and emotional abuse, and another quick creepy conversation a little bit after that. Other than that, prep your little hearts cause things get cute!

Deep in the belly of the Fright Zone Keep, Princess Catra of Halfmoon awoke with the sun in her eyes and her heart in her throat. It’s today. Her tongue swept over dry lips as she willed her body to move, her legs to swing over the side of the bed, rise, and begin the day proper. She made her way to the mirror, fingers shaking as she ran them through her wild curls. Her reflection stared back, one eye a bright blue, the other a deep brown. Catra frowned at the mismatched colors, baring her teeth and snarling at her freckled image before turning her back to the disappointing sight. She dressed quickly, her stomach churning as she mentally walked through all the steps she needed to take to ensure the day would be a success. 

Get out of the castle. Don’t raise any suspicions. Throw off whatever idiot they stick with you. Meet Glimmer. Convince Glimmer, and by extension Bright Moon, to help you get rid of Prime. Get rid of Prime. Save my kingdom. Catra grinned darkly. All in a day’s work, right? Squaring her shoulders, she gave herself a final, disapproving once-over in the mirror and headed to the dining hall for breakfast. 

The room was fairly empty, only a couple of guards flanking the main entrance. Smirking, Catra lightly kicked the calf of the young man on the left as she passed, giggling as he stumbled forward. “Morning Kyle!” She trilled over her shoulder, winking at his laughing partner on the right. 

“Catra,” Kyle whined, face bright red as he straightened back up, his eyes darting between the princess and the other guard. “Was that really necessary? Here? Now?” He cast one further meaningful glance to the man on his right, grimacing as they both continued to chuckle. 

“Aw, ‘Helio likes it when I tease you!” Catra stuck her tongue out at the smaller man as the taller nodded his approval, reaching out to clap Kyle on the shoulder in affection. But that only made the blond fall again, and the chamber echoed with their laughter as he surfaced, face a glowing, crimson beacon. He was smiling, though, and kept smiling bemusedly at the pair, until a sharp voice cut through the mirth. 

“Catra!” Kyle and Rogelio sprung to attention, backs straight, eyes forward, spears held firmly pointed to the ceiling. Catra sighed, her smile sliding quickly off her face as she turned to greet the newcomer. “What is this...foolishness?” 

“Good morning Mother.” Picking up her skirts, Catra dipped into a half curtsy, her expression carefully neutral. “How did you sleep last night?” 

Lady Weaver did not look good. Not that her daughter could really tell; the tall woman kept her figure swathed in so many scarves and wraps Catra could barely discern there was a human person under all the fabric. Even now, as she approached to escort her mother to the table, all she could see was the hard glint of black eyes peering through the slits her gilded mask afforded for sight. 

The brunette rarely ever saw Lady Weaver once without the lustrous apparatus; it had been many years previously, when she was but a small child, hiding out in the library from the angry voices of her mother screaming and Prime’s vitriol. She stumbled into the room, stinking of wine so strongly that Catra, curled in a nest of pillows by a candle, involuntarily slapped a hand to her nose. The noise startled the tipsy intruder and she rounded on her daughter, the liquid sloshing from her cup and staining the floor with a splash of crimson. It looked too much like blood.

“Catra.” Lady Weaver’s words slurred. A scarf trailed off her shoulder and dragged on the floor, splitting the red pool in twain. Catra, bile rising in the back of her throat, averted her eyes, choosing instead to look up, up, craning her neck as her mother reached her feet and stopped. The tall woman cocked her head and bent down to peer at her child. The hair on the back of Catra’s neck stood up as she looked into the dark holes where eyes should be looking out of. Perverse curiosity warred with a whispering fear that the princess should run, run stupid get out of there before anything can happen. She never knew what kind of mood Weaver would be in on an hourly, let alone daily, basis. Any queries, or as her mother liked to call them, “disturbances,” had an equal chance of being answered with a multitude of outcomes. Sometimes she would be lucky, and her face would be stroked in a loving caress confusingly paired with a cryptically derisive observation. If she happened to catch Weaver on a bad day, however, her cheek would make contact with the back of a gloved hand. The strikes never hurt very much or left a mark, but it made her wary and anxious of the woman’s indiscernible attitudes. 

Despite all this, curiosity won. “Mother, why do you wear that mask?” Her tiny, pudgy fingers reached up to brush the shimmering gold, retracting them quickly with a gasp like she had been burned. The metal was cold. Did she just put it on? Does Hordak know my mother’s face? Why don’t I? 

“Why do I wear this, hmm?” Lady Weaver repeated, nails dragging over the space Catra’s touch had just warmed. Her fingers slipped behind one ear, unhooking a mechanism that kept the disguise in place. “How strange you should ask, Catra, seeing as it is because of you I cover my face.” With a click, her mother pulled the mask off her face, holding it out away from her body and letting it clatter to the floor. She bent down further until she was inches from her daughter, her voice dropping to a snarling whisper. “You are directly responsible.” 

The left side of her mother’s face was...just a face. Soft, pale cheeks. A few faint lines marking the corner of her hazel eye. A dark, furrowed eyebrow the same shade of her hair. Nothing remarkable. Half of the women in the village surrounding the Keep had the same wrinkles, the same quirk to their brows when they were angry or stressed. But Catra’ assessment of the left was cursory at best. The right side of Lady Weaver’s face, where all the child’s attention zeroed in on, was a cratered, haphazard map of bubbled scar tissue and shiny red flesh. The right side of her mouth was drawn down into a permanent scowl, and teeth peaked through a mangled gap where her cheek should have been. The flickering torch above the pair only worsened the effect, and Catra shrank back into the pillows, terror gripping her tiny heart in its icy tentacles. 

“Before we came here, before Lord Hordak so graciously accepted us into his home,” Weaver spat, “long before you were born, I lived in a large, beautiful castle in the quaint kingdom of Halfmoon. I wasn’t a native, but your father’s advisors seemed to think it was a good idea to marry him to someone of an old, noble bloodline, so we were wed. I was excited, the day of the wedding. I was going to bring so many ideas to this backwater nation...but to your father, I was just a broodmare. A walking, talking womb for his seed.” Her lips pulled back into a snarl. Catra tried to turn her head, but her chin was seized. Her mother’s nails dug into her skin so hard she could feel bruises begin to form under the points, and she was forced to meet a pair of furious, poisonous eyes. “After you were born, the kingdom started to crumble. People were starving. Crops were failing.” Catra saw her terrified expression reflected in her mother’s hazel irises, her own mismatched set wide and brimming with tears. “They said I was a witch, and that your birth was a sin. That your father should never have married me, and that all the bad things that were happening were because of our cursed union.” Weaver’s voice dropped even further and Catra was brought even closer, her mother’s warm, stinking breath washing over her face. “After he was dead, some of the more….vindictive members of the court decided to make an example of us. They even went to the trouble to visit a real witch to procure enough caustic potion to slay the product of such an unholy pairing.” The sound of the cup shattering upon the floor rang throughout the library as the woman brought her now free hand up to drag through Catra’s hair. “But I protected you, child. I ran from Halfmoon with nothing but you in my arms and the clothes on my back, for four days, without rest or food, until we reached the Fright Zone.” She pressed her ruined lips to Catra’s tear-stained cheek. “It was too late for my face, but you, my sweet, precious child?” She hissed, the toxicity in her voice belaying her words and turning them to weapons that bore into her daughter’s heart. “Not a drop landed on you. Aren’t you so very lucky to have a mother that loves you so?” 

The next day at breakfast, the woman descended upon a sniffling, snivelling Catra, worry coloring her voice as she spoke. “Catra! Your poor chin! Did you fall again, silly child?” The hand that had tortured her scalp the previous night now soothed the chestnut locks. “Such a clumsy thing you are.” The princess spent the next week praying that the encounter was all just a dream. 

Back in the present, Lady Weaver gripped her cane like it was the only thing keeping her upright, knuckles white as her body sagged over the wood, and when she took Catra’s arm with her free hand, the princess’s heart fluttered anew at how weak her grasp was. She’s getting worse. She placed her palm over the clawed fingers, squeezing lightly. “I hardly slept a wink,” Weaver croaked. “I was up half the night coughing. This castle is too damn cold.” 

Catra slowly walked them over to the closest chair, voice light. “Why don’t you talk to Hordak? He listens to you.” She lowered Lady Weaver onto the waiting furniture, hands strong on her mother’s elbows. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard for him to find you a bit more firewood.”

Weaver coughed weakly, eyes glittering maliciously. “Lord Primus has more important matters to deal with than listening to a sick woman’s complaints. You don’t. You will go into town later today and buy me more.” 

Here’s my chance. “Actually, Mother,” Catra began, sitting across from Weaver, her hands ducking beneath the table to twist her skirts in fists. “I was thinking of going out for a ride today. I won’t be gone for long, I just want some fresh air, and I can get what you need on my way back.” Her fingers threatened to tear a hole in the fabric from their ministrations. Buy it, believe me, it’s not a complete lie. 

Catra could feel her mother’s frown, even if she couldn’t see it, but after several moments the woman sighed and nodded. “If you must. But bring Kyle with you.” Her gloved hand swept in the young man’s direction. “Lord Prime tells me the raids in the countryside are getting worse. It’s only a matter of time before the attackers get bold enough to test themselves on someplace bigger, like the Fright Zone.” 

Catra’s hands stilled under the table. After today, we won’t have to deal with those raids any longer. Hopefully. She glanced over at the guard, frowning. Having a witness did mess up her plans, but Kyle was easy enough to deal with. What was more important was to make it to this meeting, and get the Bright Moon princess on her side. Prime wasn’t just an innocent bystander in all of this, and her mother’s illness wasn’t just a random cruelness of fate. Her people’s suffering, those citizens of Halfmoon, all the attacks and destruction of property and loss of life they endured...Her hands curled into fists. He was behind it all, he must be. It was too much of a coincidence, how the raids lined up weeks or sometimes only days after Catra had done something, as Hordak put it, “disappointing.”

Even just last month, two days before the brunette sent her last letter to Glimmer, Hordak had cornered her in secluded alcove, alone. Catra was curled up in a soft chair by the window, completely devoured by the book she was reading, and had not heard the lord approach until it was too late and he was before her, blocking her in her seat. “Your birthday is coming up soon,” he said, leaning over her. “Twenty-one. That is a momentous age for a princess of Halfmoon, isn’t it? It means you’re of age.” His fingers toyed with the end of her braid as he smiled down at her. “Marrying age. We ought to find you a proper suitor.” 

Catra had trouble thinking around her panic. “I-I’d like to return to m-my castle,” she stuttered, “and be crowned queen first. Before...before I think about m-marrying anyone.” She squeezed the book tightly to her chest, hoping her body could be protected by the ink and paper and knowing nothing would keep the man away from what he wanted. 

Primus clucked, degrading her for her distracted answer. “Princess, you know your kingdom is still too weak and defenseless for you to return. Your enemies would be upon you before the crown would ever touch your head.” He continued playing with her hair, now stroking the entire braid. “Now, if you were to wed the right mate, someone with money and strength and power,” his grin turned predatory, “you could go to Halfmoon the very same day. You would be safe. Your people would be safe.” 

Anger flared, drowning out the fear, if only for a moment. But it was enough. How dare you use them against me? Catra jumped to her feet, pushing Hordak away from her and yanking her hair out of his grasp. “Well, my birthday is still a ways away. I have time to consider my options,” she snarled, turning on her heel and stomping away before he had a chance to respond. The further she paced away from the man, the quicker the panic returned, tightening her chest until she reached her room and flung herself inside. She leaned against the door and crumpled to the floor, hyperventilating, her entire body shaking with adrenaline. Shit. I’m really going to pay for that later. 

As it turned out, it was not Catra who paid for her own rashness, but another. A week had passed since her tete-a-tete in the library with Primus, and the princess ran into Lonnie, another soldier in the Fright Zone’s army. The young woman had a heavy bag slung over her shoulder and was in the middle of a tearful goodbye with Kyle and Rogelio when Catra came upon them. 

“Lonnie? What’s this, where are you going?” Catra practically grew up with the guard. Lonnie’s father was a soldier before her, and brought his daughter to the castle for safety. The two spent countless afternoons playing in the courtyard as children, until Catra’s responsibilities as princess and Lonnie’s duties as apprentice to her father meant that those carefree hours together were over. 

The young woman’s eyes were red. “It’s my dad. Erelandia. It...it,” she sniffed, rubbing a forearm under her running nose. 

Catra’s stomach dropped. “That’s the town he’s living in now, right?” 

Lonnie nodded. “After I took over his position, he moved there. Said he wanted some peace and quiet after all these years.” She hefted her bag. “Raiders attacked it. A few days ago...my father, he got hurt. Really badly.” She peered into the princess’s face with tear-filled eyes. “I...I have to go take care of him. I’m so sorry, Catra.” 

Catra’s thoughts raced. It’s too soon to be a coincidence. It has to be him. She tried to smile at Lonnie, to reassure her. “Don’t worry about me. I still have these two to keep me out of trouble!” She punched Kyle in the shoulder. 

“Ow!” 

Lonnie chuckled wetly. “Seriously? Kyle? He can’t even keep himself out of trouble, let alone the likes of you!” The distraction had worked, and Catra bid the young woman goodbye, hopeful at the least that Lonnie would not worry about her. She understood the guard’s sense of responsibility to care for her father. As much as Catra hated it, she too felt the pull, the need to protect her mother. Even if all the woman had ever done was make the princess’s life miserable. Weaver was the only family she had left. 

But now was not the time to dwell on the past. Catra finished her breakfast, curtsied again to her mother, and followed Kyle to the stables. Alright, step one complete. I’m out of the castle. Now to ditch Kyle. They mounted their horses and rode out, weaving through the buildings clustered around the keep and the smaller abodes spread around making up the town that gave the Fright Zone its name. There were not many people out on the roads, and those that were wore dark, mournful expressions, their eyes cast low. Catra’s heart went out to them. I’m going to make this better for you too, she thought as she passed each one. One day soon, Hordak will be gone and I will see you smile. 

When they exited out the main gate, the ramparts crossing above their heads, Catra breathed easy for the first time all day. They broke out into a gallop as they headed for the grand forest stretching out beyond the town. The princess grinned over at the guard. “Kyle, I’ll never understand why she insists on sticking you with me!” 

“I’m the only one that has any chance of keeping up with you on horseback!” He shouted back, making a face.

“You sure about that?” Laughing, she urged her steed on, entering the woods several paces ahead of the young man, his objections swallowed up in the dust behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as the flags topping the castle disappeared into the treetops. Good. We’re far enough away. No one can see us from here. She eased her horse into a slow trot and circled back to wait for Kyle. “Listen, why don’t you head back?” Catra offered when he finally approached. “The last raid wasn’t anywhere close to here, and you’ve probably got better things to do besides babysitting me.” The blond frowned, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. Time for the piece de resistance. “I heard Rogelio was going to be done with his shift in a couple hours. I’m sure you’d have much more fun with him.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, but Kyle still didn’t seem convinced. 

“I dunno, Catra...you really shouldn’t be out here alone.” He fiddled with the reins, twisting the leather between his hands. 

“Kyle.” He looked shocked at her serious tone, a sudden change from the levity they were just enjoying. “You should go spend the afternoon with Rogelio.” Catra bore her eyes into his, willing him to understand, to just go, please just go.

“...what aren’t you telling me?”

Catra urged her horse forward to draw up beside the young man. She leaned over to cup his cheek, her forehead creasing as she looked him over. Kyle did not have any family, beyond the other soldiers in the barracks. But he was like Lonnie, and Rogelio, and all the other people in that horrible prison Hordak called a castle. She loved them like they were her own blood, and would protect them as such. “You need to leave. Return home, go spend some time with your love, it doesn’t matter. You just cannot be here.” She sighed and released his face. “The fewer people know about this, the better.”

“But, Catra I--” 

“No, Kyle, you don’t understand. I...I need to know you are safe. That if they ask you if I’ve done anything or you’ve seen anything, you don’t have to lie...You’ll be protected from this.” His light eyes were filled with worry and fear, for himself or for her she could not tell. “Please.” 

Kyle blinked, and slowly nodded. “I trust you, Catra.” He turned his horse around back to the castle, continuing to fiddle with the reins. “You are armed, right? You brought some kind of weapon?” 

Catra chuckled, leaning down to pat the hidden dagger tucked away in her boot. “Seriously, Kyle? I’m not an idiot.” The young man laughed, shaking his head at her response, and with a click of his tongue he was gone, horse thundering away out of the forest and back towards the Keep. It was suddenly so much quieter now, and so much lonelier. Catra swallowed, anxiety storming in her chest at all that lay ahead. She thought of her mother, of her friends back at the castle, and all the citizens of Halfmoon she was born to serve and protect, and found the courage to guide her horse deeper into the trees.

It was not all bad, Catra mused as she guided her horse deeper into the darkness. Some of her happiest memories were spent here. She measured her years by the towering greens canopying over her head. She played amidst the majestic trunks, flitting between the patches of dappled light, always under the watchful eye of a guard. Even the air felt familiar, the smell returning her back to years of lisped words and scraped knees, before the duties of her title called her back into the Keep’s cold halls. She dismounted, taking the reins in her left hand and tracing her right along the rough bark. She knew these trees better than her own land of Halfmoon, she realized, a thought that brought more than a little shame to disquiet her heart. 

Catra kept her eyes wide and her ears perked as she drew closer to the meeting place she designated with Glimmer in their letters: a tiny clearing, closed off all around by close-knit foliage, covered in velvety moss, distinguished by a single, gnarled, lightning-struck tree. None of the Fright Zone guards knew of the location, she was sure of it. The princess herself had only found it by accident a few years prior, stumbling into it after running away in a petulant huff from some overbearing bodyguard. There was a touch of magic to the location, she had instantly decided, some ethereal quality lingering in the dust motes dawdling lazily through the atmosphere. The soldier’s exasperated cry had broken the spell, and with a sigh she had turned away, unwilling to share this secret place with just anyone. 

But maybe she had not been as cautious as she thought. Kneeling between the pale, twisted roots was a person, man or woman Catra could not tell at this angle, fiddling with a set of armor laid out upon the green carpet while a white horse snuffled by their side. Their golden hair was long, twisted into an efficient braid that trailed between two broad shoulders. A sword resting in a scabbard lay beside them, its hilt gleaming faintly in the sun. The person must be a soldier of some kind, the brunette decided, based on their build and the muscles shifting beneath their loose shirt. They did not look like anyone from Fright Zone village or Keep, and her fingers itched to grasp at the knife hidden in her shoe. Catra was full of bravado when she told Kyle no raider would dare come this close to their location, but maybe this one was of a particularly stupid breed. 

Looping her horse’s reins around a nearby branch, praying the noise of the intruder’s beast would block out the sounds of her own, Catra stepped closer. She bent down to retrieve her dagger, heartbeat slowing only a fraction as its hilt met the palm of her hand. She crept into the clearing, stepping toe to heel, and her soft-shod boots made no sound over the earth. Careful, now. She sidestepped a fallen twig. Nothing can ruin this meeting. The weapon felt cold against her skin. Glimmer must agree to help me. I’m out of options. Her silent breath quickened as she drew up behind her target. You have to protect your people. With a snarl, Catra lunged forward. Her free hand fisted into the soldier’s braid, yanking their head back and pressing the top to her sternum, while her other held the dagger’s edge to the delicate skin of their throat. 

Now that their face was inches from her own, the princess could see that this intruder was a woman, and--her heart skipping a beat as she stared--a very pretty woman indeed. Her lips were full and pink, parted wide as she gulped quick, frenzied breaths. Her skin was pale and without blemish, save three ruthless scars running along her jaw. Their purpled flesh rippled as the woman frowned, swallowing hard against Catra’s blade. The brunette glanced up and met eyes the shining blue-gray of tempered steel, as undoubtedly sharp as the sword Catra felt the soldier inching her hand towards. She yanked on the golden braid again, hissing between her teeth. “None of that now,” she growled, tilting the knife so it cut into the blonde. A thin trickle of blood made its way down her neck, and the woman stilled. Good. “Now, speak the truth, or I shall bury my weapon in your throat. Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Her captive blinked up at her, tongue darting forward to moisten her lips. Catra was fast losing patience. She shook her again. “Speak!” She demanded, her voice ringing throughout the clearing. 

The blonde pursed her lips, her eyebrows quirked sardonically. “I would, but it’s a little hard to speak with your knife strangling me.” Her back was arched into Catra’s abdomen, and her voice rumbled through the brunette’s body, hoarse and deep. The woman lifted her hands before them in surrender. “No tricks.” 

Catra shifted on her heels a little. To tell the truth, she had not really thought this interaction through very far. Entering the clearing, she recognized that she might have to slay this person, but the time between coming to that conclusion and the action’s actual execution, she lost her conviction. The princess chewed on her lower lip, weighing her options as her thoughts clouded. She knew the rumors, heard the whispers the people would exchange when she and Lady Weaver passed by. “Her mother killed her father” filtered down from open windows. “I bet the daughter is just as devious, just as evil,” creeped from insidious shadows. “Look at her eyes! She wears her mother’s sins upon her face!” She would have clawed out the mismatched orbs if it would stop their superstitious foolishness. But the older she got, the thicker her skin grew, and she learned the only way to silence the chatter was to prove herself. Catra was not like her mother. She would never be like her mother. She would never use another person as a means to an end. She would never cause another person to doubt their own mind or existence, to lay awake at night staring at the ceiling waging battle against pernicious thoughts saying you’re only worth something because she saved you. You have no value. You have no goodness. 

The longer Catra stared into the crystalline eyes, the more her decision solidified. She did not want to kill this woman, even if she was a raider. She moved the dagger away, keeping it close enough to still threaten but giving the soldier enough room to breathe, grip loosening on the blonde hair. 

And that was Catra’s first mistake. 

Her second was not fighting back tooth and nail when the woman reached behind her, gripping Catra’s upper arm in an iron grasp, her other hand latching around the princess’s wrist and wrenching it away from her throat. The dagger flew from Catra’s palm, landing several feet away from the struggling pair. The world flew by as the brunette was yanked over the warrior’s shoulder, her back landing so hard against the tree that the air was knocked from her lungs and debris showered her face. Blinking her eyes rapidly to clear the dirt gave the blonde time to leap to her feet and press her forearm just below Catra’s chin. Vision unobstructed now, the princess growled up...wait, up? Upright, the blonde had to be a good half a foot taller than she, probably more, given how her back arched down to barricade the smaller woman to the tree with her whole body. 

Undaunted by this problematic distraction, Catra latched both hands onto the woman’s arm, using it as leverage to pull her legs up to her chest and kick them forward. She caught her attacker full in the abdomen and with a winded grunt, she eased up the pressure on the brunette’s throat. Lightning fast, Catra ducked and ran, eyes searching for her far-flung weapon. There! A tiny glint from the edge of the clearing caught her attention and she started forward, blind to all else. 

Mistake number three. 

Catra did not take more than two steps before two hands latched themselves on her ankles, sending her crashing into the moss. “Unff!” The knife was only inches away. She dug her nails into loam, dragging her body forward. Just a little closer. The grip climbed up her legs, arriving at her calves. Reach! Her fingertips brushed the jeweled pommel and for just a moment victory flared in her chest. Yes! It died quickly. The hands were at her hips before she could wrap her palm around her blade, and quick as a flash Catra found herself on her back, the blonde’s knees bracketing her thighs, her wrists and arms held above her head by a pair of muscular arms. 

Now that the soldier’s face was right side up and Catra could get a proper look at her, the princess felt she must amend her earlier assessment. A few wisps of gold escaped the woman’s braid during their tousle and they scattered around her face. The light filtering in delicately from the trees above alighted upon the flaxen strands, crowning her whole appearance with an angelic halo. Her cheeks were flushed a vivid pink, making the contrast to her sapphire eyes even more stark. She was not just pretty, Catra decided. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Catra had ever seen. And it made the princess very, very angry. What right did she have being this beautiful? She snarled up at the blonde, baring her teeth in a--hopefully--frightful vignette.

But instead of releasing her, or having the decency to look castigated and frightened, the blonde giggled, a shockingly feminine sound. It electrified Catra, filling her head and buzzing about curiously. “Now,” she huffed, a lopsided grin stretching over her features. “Can you please stop trying to kill me for one minute?”

Catra’s blood boiled, and she struggled fruitlessly against the taller woman’s restraint. “No!” she spat. “These are my woods! I will defend them as I see fit!” 

Her lovely laugh echoed against the trees again. “Yes, and you’re doing a splendid job. Couldn’t even hold off one knight. I’m sure the raiders are quaking in their boots at the sight of you!” She cocked her head, dark brows twisting. “Are your eyes different colors?” 

“Wait, the raiders? Are...are you not one of them?” Catra blinked rapidly at the blonde, question completely ignored as a realization dawned on her with growing dread. How likely was it for Glimmer, a crown princess, to travel alone? Her mouth felt incredibly dry. “Who...who are you?” 

“Adora!” The name split through the trees, followed closely by a tiny, black-haired woman and a tall, dark-skinned young man. 

The woman above her froze. “Glimmer!”

Wait. “Glimmer?”

The tiny woman stared at her in shock. “Catra?!”

“Catra? Princess Catra?” The blonde looked horrified. She released Catra’s wrists and moved off of her legs so quickly she stumbled, landing heavily on her backside. She bowed her head, face burning as she shifted to one knee. “Your Highness, please forgive me for my insolence. I did not know you were royalty, or else I would never have acted in this way. Please know I am most ashamed for my actions.” 

The shortest newcomer - Glimmer, this must be Glimmer - snorted, walking over to offer Catra a hand. “Adora, don’t be so dramatic.” With a grunt she pulled the brunette to her feet, grinning. “You aren’t hurt, are you Catra?” 

Catra shook her head. “No, but she is,” pointing at the woman still crouched on the ground. “I thought she was coming to attack the Keep, so I snuck up on her with my dagger.” She bent down to retrieve the object and tucked it into her boot. 

The third stranger walked over to the soldier - Adora - as she stood, his hand going to her chin to tilt it up and examine the wound. He was shorter than she, and had to look up. “Mmm, it’s not deep.” He fished a folded square of linen from his pocket and uncorked a leather pouch hanging at his waist, upending its contents over the fabric. He dabbed it along the blonde’s throat to wipe away the thin trickle of blood. 

Adora grimaced down at him. “I’ll live?” The young man nodded. 

Catra sighed theatrically. “Well, thank goodness for that.” Glimmer frowned at her, and for a brief moment embarrassment over her actions and concern for Adora flared in her gut. But only for a moment. She did not have the time to feel worried about a stranger. Her kingdom, her people...her mother did not have the time. “Since you are here, I’m hoping this means you’ve decided to help my cause?” 

The short princess nodded. “We’re going to do everything in our power to assist you.” She gestured to the young man and the blonde. “This is Bow, Bright Moon’s best archer, and I guess you’ve already met Adora, who also goes by ‘She-Ra’. She’s a knight.” Glimmer permitted herself a sardonic smile before she lifted one hand to Catra’s shoulder, her eyes grave. “Your words spoke to my mother and I. There’s a lot of lost love between our kingdoms, and as future queen, I want to change that.”

“As do I,” the brunette replied. She twisted her fingers together, weighing her words carefully. “It would be good to become allies again. It’s the first thing I also want to do as queen, to start rebuilding our friendship. I...I know that Lady Weaver is not a good person. I know a lot of the horrible things people whisper about her or accuse her of are likely true. I am not her, despite what is said about me as well. I know I can’t repair all the awful things that she did, or reconcile how much blood was spilled all for a lie, but I want to try to make it right. Halfmoon is suffering without a queen, and it burns my heart to see their pain. But if I leave here, while Hordak is still free…” A host of horrible possibilities flooded her mind, the same visions that would wake her in the middle of the night screaming. “We are hostages here, my mother and I. I don’t care for my own life, but hers is in danger. As too are my citizens, if my suspicions of his responsibility in the attacks in both of our kingdoms are founded.” Catra slammed a fist into her palm. “He must be stopped, but I’m not enough. I’m just one person.” 

Glimmer’s face shone up into hers with righteous fury. Bow stood just behind her, looking to all the world like he was seconds from bursting into tears. Adora was staring at her, her brow creased and her blue-gray eyes dark with...but she was too far away for Catra to discern what exactly. Pity? Understanding? Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you dare. What does this pretty stranger know to look at her like this? How could she possibly begin to understand everything Catra has been through, all the obstacles that still remain in her path? She wanted to open her mouth and tell the blonde off, and was in the process of doing so, before Glimmer interrupted her.

“Not anymore!” The tiny princess clapped her hands together, positively sparkling with excitement. “So! This is what we have planned so far. Adora will enter the Fright Zone corps in some capacity. A guard, a soldier, a knight.” She shrugged. “Whatever opening you can find for her, she’ll take it. But we need her inside the Keep, to be our eyes, and to help you gather intel on Hordak.” 

“I will also protect you and the Lady Weaver.” The tall woman’s eyes had lost their infuriating expression, but the feel of them upon Catra’s skin still made her angry. “With my life, if necessary.” 

Despite the severity of their discussion, Catra could not help the mirthful chuckle that bubbled to her lips in the face of Adora’s gravity. “Glimmer’s right. You are dramatic, Adora.” The blonde flushed crimson, making Catra laugh harder. 

“Bow will stay close in the town,” the tiny princess interjected, trying to maintain control over the conversation’s flow. “I’m too recognizable to do much clandestine work, but I’ve been doing what I can with the information you’ve already given me, Catra. I’ve been able to track down a couple of mercenaries who are willing to talk in exchange for lesser sentencing. Their testimonies will help eventually, but for now it’s just their word against Hordak’s.”

Catra frowned, a sick taste in her mouth. “A nobleman’s account will always mean more than that of the common people.” Yet another thing I will change once I am queen.

Glimmer nodded. “Like I said, Bow is going to stay in the town and take whatever papers you can find and take them directly to me. For the most part he will stay close and be whatever outside help you and Adora need in the Keep, but I will occasionally have to call him back to Bright Moon to help me with following leads.” Her expression soured. “Even if Mother has a problem with it, I’m not just going to sit around and not do anything,” she muttered, more to herself than any of the three around her. “I refuse to not be taken seriously.” 

If she was being honest with herself, Catra was a touch disappointed. Did she expect Glimmer to come charging in, the full force of Bright Moon’s army behind her, ready to liberate Catra and throw Hordak in chains? No, but it would have been nice to have more backup than a single knight and one arrow boy. She took in the three people before her. Something about Glimmer’s little outburst at the end tickled the back of her mind, and she needed answers. “Bow, you’re an archer?” 

The young man nodded, standing a little straighter. “I’m the head of Bright Moon’s company, in fact.” 

“And...how many battles have you led, or even seen, for that matter? How much reconnaissance work have you performed? Can you disguise your person, and be a complete stranger to someone as close to you as your family? Can you sneak, and be silent, and breathe so quietly you can’t even hear your own lungs inflate?” Bow shrank before her eyes. “Can you even lie?” 

Adora started forward, mouth wide to defend her friend, but that just meant she was under Catra’s scrutiny now. “And you, ‘She-Ra,’ how much fighting have you done? How many splendid acts of bravery and chivalry have you accomplished in what is no doubt a long and decorated career as a knight?” There was that beautiful flush again, but it held no delight for the princess. It only solidified the suspicions Glimmer’s words ignited. Catra rounded on the tiny woman, lips pulled back in a snarl. “I beg you for help, I throw myself on the mercy of you and Queen Angella, and this is what I get for my humiliation? A wet-behind-the-ears knight, a half-pint princess one temper tantrum away from a complete meltdown, and a ‘head’ warrior who can’t even grow a beard yet! Bright Moon must be doing far worse for strength and numbers than I thought!” 

“How dare you--!” Glimmer looked like she was going to explode, or punch Catra across the mouth. The brunette would have respected the black-haired woman more if she had, and was readying herself for the blow when one large hand descended on the princess’s shoulder. 

“You’re afraid.” Adora pulled Glimmer back and stepped into Catra’s space. She had to tilt her head back to meet the knight’s gaze, and fuck it was back. That mixture of pity and understanding storming in her blue-gray pools. Catra hated it, hated how it bore into her soul, tugging gently at the layers of bluster and bravado she cocooned herself in to prevent further pain than what she had already endured. Her eyes were wretched in such close proximity, and they only got worse when the knight went down on one knee and took Catra’s hand in her two. They were rough, littered with callouses across the palms, but surprisingly cool to the touch. “I am too. I know how we look to you, but I promise you, Your Highness. We will give it our all. I will give my all to keep you and your mother and your kingdom safe.” Catra thought she would burn between Adora’s words and her eyes. She glanced away, but that only meant the blonde held her hand tighter. “We will stop him. This I swear to you.” 

It was too much for the brown-haired princess to handle. Her mother spoke in riddles, and Hordak’s tongue was mendacity itself. In the face of so much earnestness, so much honesty, so much blistering faith that good deeds would inevitably lead to happy conclusion, what else was a woman to do? With one shaking finger, Catra did the only thing she could think to relieve the tension, and poked Adora square in the forehead. “Well, what choice do I have?” The knight blinked rapidly, clearly surprised by the gesture, but then she smiled. It was small and hopeful and so very, very lovely. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thank you's again to the delectable Amitola12 for beta-ing! You are a national treasure! Go check out her incredible stories!


	3. Here there be dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "here there be dragons" - a notation on maps to designate uncharted, potentially dangerous territory

“You’ll need to talk to the captain of the guard, Scorpia, she’ll be the one to find you a job.” Catra lifted her hand high over her head, stretching her arm up as far as it would extend and lifting onto her tip-toes. “She’s about this tall, and,” dropping back to her normal height, she flexed both arms, curling them under and holding them away from her body, “about this wide. White hair. She’s hard to miss.” 

Adora was in the process of vesting herself of Mara’s armor. She buckled the cuisses in place as Catra gestured, trying - and probably failing - to not be obvious as she watched the princess speak.  _ She’s very pretty _ . As quickly as the thought invaded her mind, Adora panicked. She fumbled with the straps of the vambrace along her left arm, fingers suddenly losing all dexterity. “Shit!” She mumbled under her breath as the leather refused to cooperate, feeling a blush rise high in her cheeks.  _ She’s going to think this is the first time you’ve ever suited up! You’re going to look like a fool, and what kind of person entrusts her people’s lives to a fool?!  _ The mental admonishment only made things worse, and the piece thudded to the earth. 

Two sets of eyes stared at the metal gleaming faintly in the woodland light. Two sets of eyes raised and connected in the clearing. “Having some difficulties, then?” 

Adora’s whole face had to be crimson at this point. Even more embarrassed than she was before, she pulled her gaze away from Catra’s dry assessment, choosing instead to focus on a tiny collection of flowers at the base of the lightning-struck tree. “I’m...I’m still ashamed of my behavior from earlier. I never should have attacked you, or...or spoken to you in such a…”  _ stars above, I  _ flirted _ with her!  _ The knight closed her eyes and took a deep, steading breath through her nose. “I deeply regret my actions, Princess.” 

Scoffing, Catra bent down and swooped up the fallen armor, weighing it in her hands. “This is going to be a very long…” she paused, pulling her lower lip to worry it between her teeth. “Well, however long it will take to discover sufficient evidence to indicate Hordak and have him removed, it will inevitably feel  _ much  _ longer if you don’t learn to  _ relax _ , Adora.” Grabbing the blonde’s arm, she pressed the vambrace into place, nimble fingers working the straps with practiced ease. “I won’t bite. Promise.” Finished, she patted the piece solidly. “And, it’s ‘Catra.’ When we aren’t in front of a lot of people and we have to put on airs and use proper titles and all that...just call me ‘Catra,’ alright?” 

Adora could hear her heartbeat race in her ears as she nodded stiffly, eyes resolutely trained on anything but the princ - but  _ Catra. _ Searching around the clearing for something,  _ anything _ , to focus on, her sight alighted on Glimmer and Bow preparing for Glimmer’s return to Bright Moon’s capital. Bow would be travelling half the journey with the tiny woman, meeting with a rendezvous at the town of Thaymor with a contingent of guards who would escort her back safely. From there, the archer would return to the Fright Zone and take residence in the village as the go-between for Adora and Catra in the Keep and Angella in the capital. 

The knight smiled as she watched the two. Only a week had passed since her arrival at the queen’s court, and yet already Adora could not imagine her life without these two. Three days spent in the capital preparing, followed by another four traipsing over the Bright Moon countryside gave the trio plenty of time to not only become acquainted, but to become true, dear friends. Glimmer was passionate and fierce and utterly over the top.  _ She says  _ I’m _ dramatic, but I wasn’t the one who screamed when a spider crawled up my blanket!  _ Adora mused, chuckling as Glimmer started growling at an unruly satchel that refused to bend to her will and close properly. During their voyage, it took the combined effort of the knight and the archer to rouse the princess every morning, one pulling her up by the arms while the other pushed from behind, forcing her upright, before the tiny woman approached anything vaguely resembling consciousness. 

Bow, on the other hand, Adora considered patience itself. The young man never once lost his temper the entire trip despite three wrong turns, two separate instances of horses becoming unshod, and one monumental thunderstorm that drenched them all so thoroughly the blonde’s socks  _ still  _ weren’t dry. (Glimmer, meanwhile, lost her temper more times than Adora cared to count in the first day alone, usually at a stray shoe or passing butterfly.) On top of this, Bow happened to be almost comically prone to inspiration and invention. The tall blonde and the tiny black-haired woman would be riding for several minutes only to discover that one of their party was missing and backtrack to find the young man lost in thought, scribbling furiously in a small leather-bound book with a tiny stick of charcoal, tongue sandwiched between his teeth. He showed it to Adora one night as they gathered around the fire: a collection of various mechanisms and ideas he wanted to try his hand at. There was a design for a crossbow that allowed for quicker loading of bolts and a few sketches of prosthetic limbs, wood and metal alike. Adora flipped through the pages, amazed. “You came up with all these?” 

Bow nodded shyly. “I’m not always in my workshop, and I don’t want to forget any ideas. But people tend to think you’re a little crazy when you carry on conversations with yourself.” He tapped the cracked spine, a cheery smile splitting his cheeks. “This is a lot quieter.” 

But what Adora found the most incredible was how quickly and entirely they accepted her. They did not treat her like she was something strange or abnormal, despite her unusual childhood and various faults she determined must be alienating to those who would have otherwise been her peers. Neither did they fawn over her like Adora had seen others do to Mara. So long had a dichotomy existed for the warrior, the foreign and distant “other” of “other people” she was never allowed to be acquainted with under the old warrior’s sharp eye. They would either be enemies, or beneath Mara’s notice. In the years before, when the two defended a town from mercenaries, the women only stuck around long enough to ensure the raiders would not return, and off they would be. More than once, Mara had to physically drag Adora away from a growing crowd of peasants, muttering under her breath, “this isn’t what we’re here for, child.” The young knight was going to miss the easy camaraderie the three developed over the past seven days. This next period - be it one month or several - she would be enduring alone. 

A soft shuffling of feet beside her reminded Adora that, no, she was not alone. Catra blinked up at her, expression blank. “Shall we go?” The knight stared back, her thoughts churning.  _ Who are you, Princess?  _ She had said to call her Catra. That bespoke a hope for familiarity, perhaps even closeness...but was it presumptuous for the knight to consider friendship, in light of the gaping precipice between their ranks? Even casting aside titles as requested, the women had only known each other for barely an hour at best. And she had encouraged Adora to relax? The blonde almost laughed at the thought.  _ What is there to laugh about?  _ The weight of all the tumultuous affairs that laid before her feet weighted heavily on Adora’s shoulders. But, surely Catra felt it too, felt the heaviness of responsibility. So the fact that she suggested it, maybe companionship was not as far fetched as Adora feared. She hit a vein of good fortune in her friendship with Bow and Glimmer. Lightning could, indeed, strike twice, provided she did not fear the rain. 

The knight jerked her head once. “Let me say my farewells, and we’ll be off.” 

One of Bow’s hands was clasped in both of Glimmer’s. They stared down at their linked fingers, their faces alight with gentle surprise. Adora smiled as she approached the pair. More than once on their trek, she had caught one looking at the other wistfully, eyes soft, lips tugging at the corners. But then awareness would crash down. The spell would break, and the person turned away with intense, single-minded concentration on a task unattended mere seconds before. They heard her approach and broke apart, Bow looking like he had just been roundhoused in the face. Glimmer blinked rapidly multiple times, clearing away a distant haze in her light brown eyes, before embracing her friend. “Adora! Be safe!” 

The knight froze, then relaxed into the hug. “I will. I promise.” She tightened her hold on the tiny princess. “I...I won’t let you or Angella down.”

Glimmer released the blonde to roll her eyes. “Adora. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. You’re exactly the kind of person to throw herself into danger, but I need to know I will see you alive again.” Her voice hitched on the final word, but her face remained resolute. 

Warmth bloomed in Adora’s chest. Such a promise was not possible for her. She had her mission, Glimmer knew that much. To guarantee her own survival was to put her own well-being above the intended goal of freeing Catra and Halfmoon, and that was unacceptable. It, simply put, would never happen. But the miniature woman’s affection stirred her heart in a way that would have been unfamiliar to the blonde only a week ago. Her original suspicions,  _ maybe Glimmer only wants me around because I can help, maybe Bow only tolerates me because I’m strong, maybe they’ll tire of me when I’m no longer useful, I  _ must _ be useful, I  _ must  _ be good,  _ echoing in her mind in the tranquility of early morning and the silence before bed, lost their power a little more with each passing moment in their presence. The voices still curled in her ears, still burrowed deep and took residence in her body, but they were quieter than before, and they had new things to say.  _ If they only want me around to help, why is Bow being so kind? If my only value is my strength, why does Glimmer try to make me laugh so much? Maybe...maybe they like me...for me?  _ It was these fresh words, more than the familiar ones, that kept Adora up at night, staring into the fire long after the flames had died to search the dying embers. 

So too now Adora searched Glimmer’s face, looking for a secret meaning or ulterior motive beneath the open concern, some reason to doubt the tiny princess’s genuine sentiment. She found none. “Don’t worry about me, Glimmer. We’ll see each other soon.” 

“Two months! Mother’s not looking forward to it, but I think it’ll be splendid.” She paused, and all three of them turned as one to include the fourth, Catra, as she approached to say goodbye. “You’ll be able to come, yes?” 

The brunette smirked. “Hordak can’t ignore an official invitation from the queen, no matter how much he likes to style himself a king.” She nodded. “I’ll be at the tourney.” 

Adora’s mind drifted as she hugged Bow goodbye. Bright Moon would be celebrating Angella’s 25th jubilee in two months, which called for festivities on a national scale. Jousting, feasting, a dance or two. Glimmer practically floated off the forest floor when she described everything Angella had planned. It made Adora dizzy, to think of so many people. The throne room was bad enough with the way everyone’s eyes felt, crawling along her skin and devouring her every inch. Glimmer must have seen the queasy look on the blonde’s face. “Don’t worry, Adora. There’ll be a bunch of other knights and soldiers there. The only time you’ll be the focus is if you win one of the games! Then Mother or I will present you with some kind of token and the people will applaud you, nothing so awful.” (Adora’s squeaky reply of “ _ I have to compete?! _ ” told Glimmer her words were not as reassuring as she originally intended.) 

These same anxieties buzzed in Adora’s brain, meeting and mingling with her growing concern over the unreadable brunette standing by her side. They multiplied, long after Glimmer and Bow mounted their horses and took off in the direction of Bright Moon’s capital. They became deafening when she threw her legs over Swift Wind and sensed, more than watched, Catra pull alongside her on her steed. She could think of nothing else as they made their way through the woods and started slowly trotting in the direction of Fright Zone Keep. 

_ I’ve had a grand total of three, possibly four, successful conversations in my entire life, and now I have to spend who knows  _ how _ long with a princess.  _ Adora glanced to the side. The light dappling through the trees alighted on the deep chestnut curls tumbling over Catra’s thin shoulders, turning the strands a brilliant copper in the warm rays.  _ What do princesses even talk about?  _ Their horses continued forward, and the sun peeking between the leaves alighted on the brunette’s face. Her cheekbones were a constellation of freckles atop tan skin that caramel silk would be envious of.  _ Damnit Adora, focus!  _

One sharp eye, colored topaz in the sunshine, pinned Adora to the saddle. “Since we’re going to be working together, and risking our lives, I suppose,” Catra sighed, “we might as well get to know each other...what’s your favorite color?” 

Adora’s pulse bounded in her temples.  _ She’s talking to me. What do I say?  _ She hazarded another glance to the woman riding beside her. The plump, dark lips were pulled tight in a grimace.  _ Shit, hurry, think of something to say.  _ She could feel herself sweating as she scrambled for some kind of answer.  _ Do I even have a favorite color?...It’s been way too long since she asked, just pick something! Anything!  _ But instead of an answer, Adora found herself asking a question in return. “What does that have anything to do with the mission?” 

Silence.  _ Shit.  _

Catra scoffed and did not respond.  _ Shit!  _

The next ten minutes were spent in complete and total reticence, and Adora suffered the entire six hundred seconds.

_ You’re getting nowhere like this. Just...just  _ talk _ to her! _ Adora coughed. Catra did not move. Adora coughed again and found her voice. “Um…” She cast her eyes about for some topic of conversation, but all she saw were the woods. Bark, branches, needles, leaves, so much living, breathing green and brown it overwhelmed her senses.  _ Of course now you remember the color spectrum.  _ “These trees. They would...um...provide excellent cover if we needed a place to hide from an ambush.” The stiff, painful attempt at conversation hardly left her mouth and already she regretted the words.

“This isn’t some collection of trees.” Catra’s tone scalded the blonde’s ears. “The most brazen of highwaymen, the most depraved louche of murderers and thieves, wouldn't dare tread here. We are in the  _ Whispering Woods. _ ” As quickly as she burned, Adora found herself soothed by the subdued veneration in the other woman’s tone. “I grew up here, more at peace amongst these oaks and saplings than anything I’ve ever known. When things…” she gulped. “When I needed escape or comfort, the Woods provided it. They’re the closest thing to a home I’ve ever known.” 

“But what of the Fright Zone? And the Keep?” Catra’s lips tightened pale and offered no sound. Adora cursed herself for effectively killing the conversation. She could not help but pity the fact that, this time at least, she had actually  _ tried. _ They rode several minutes in further silence.  _ Maybe I asked too much of her? Maybe talking about the Fright Zone was too personal?  _ The more she pondered their destination, the more she realized how little she understood of the location and its inner workings. She squared her shoulders, and tried again. 

“Glimmer told me Queen Angella can’t do anything because Hordak is too powerful. She said he’s wealthy...but he’s just a lord. How is a lord more powerful than a queen?” A stubtle blush mounted in her cheeks, growing in color the more she spoke. She was well aware of how little she understood of the world, how much Mara left out when it came to her raising, but please,  _ please. Don’t think I’m a fool.  _

Catra inhaled, long and deep, like she was trying to breathe in everything the Whispering Woods had to offer.``It took you, what, four days to reach the Fright Zone from the capital?” At Adora’s nod, she continued. “The Keep is at the edge of Bright Moon’s territory. The city is so remote from everything. We’re basically closer to Halfmoon territory than we are Angella’s control, and...Hordak extorts that. He essentially governs the city by himself. It’s too far away for Angella to exert any real control.” 

The princess paused, considering her next words. Adora drummed her fingers on the pommel of Swift Wind’s saddle, torn between asking more questions and giving Catra space to decide what all she could trust the knight with. She watched her own nervous hands fidget, then slid her eyes to the ground between their two horses. Still nothing. From there, it felt natural to drift her sight up, up, over Catra’s booted foot and along her leg  _ \- Adora! Focus! -  _ There was her elbow, followed by her shoulder, and  _ there _ , there was her face. Adora kept her own forward, observing from just the corner of her eye. The brunette’s forehead was creased with worry and her lower lip was back between her teeth. Adora’s head began to ache from the severe angle from which she made her assessment, yet she could not stop herself from searching Catra’s countenance. 

Apparently, so too was the princess. Adora was just beginning to zero her focus in on the princess’s mouth, watching her teeth press the bottom lip bloodless, when she became aware of one bright brown eye performing the exact same survey of her own movements. Catra’s head was turned just a fraction towards her, chin tilted down and eyelashes low as she also attempted to be subtle. Two faces glowed red under the tree’s canopy, and two throats cleared awkwardly. Adora’s hand immediately went to the back of her neck to scratch nervously, fingers agitating some hairs from her braid and making the whole presentation even messier. 

“B-besides!” Catra sounded flustered, and even more irritated than before. “Bright Moon’s army is small. Angella doesn’t have the forces to correct every small slight. Hordak’s been pushing the boundaries of what he can get away with over the years, little by little...he’s smart,” she huffed. Adora heard the frustration at the admission in her voice.  _ How much did it take for her to say that?  _ “Everything’s been subtle, nothing overt, nothing obvious...the Crown isn’t expected to make decisions over petty squabbles like what sheep belong to what farmer, or how to punish a thief for stealing some bread or cloth, for example. It’s the bigger things that must be called to her attention...murder, treason. If it’s bad enough, she will come here herself, but usually a missive from the lord detailing the crimes and how he or she thinks they should proceed suffices. As long as Angella is given deference, in a place as distant and remote as the Fright Zone...no one will know anything wrong is occurring.” 

Adora’s mind spun. “I don’t understand. How?” When she risked a look at the princess, there was a deep frown darkening her features. Adora whipped her head forward as shame pooled in her stomach, coiled tight and making her stutter an apology. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t get much of a political education growing up...not much of an education at all, I’m coming to realize,” she muttered. Catra turned sharply at this, and even with her sight fixed on Swift Wind’s ears, she could feel the princess’s gaze boring into her skull. It made the blush all the brighter in Adora’s cheeks. “It probably doesn’t instill a lot of confidence, putting your trust in a knight who can’t begin to guess the differences between a commoner and a king, let alone all the intricacies of court politics...but I want to help you, C-Catra.” The two syllables stumbled over her tongue and clung her lips. It felt far too intimate, using her first name in this cavalier manner, but... _ but she asked me to. How will she begin to trust me if I don’t respect her wishes?  _ “I’m strong, and I can and will give my life to protect you, but muscles and a sword can only do so much when creeping in the shadows of a castle.” Adora took a deep breath as she determined whether her next words would be appropriate, whether it was too soon in their fragile partnership.  _ Trust goes both ways. _ “My caregiver, Mara, taught me how to fight, but she also taught me the value of being good and useful to those in need. I want to be those things for you and your cause...I only hope that’s enough.” 

The snuffles of the two horses paired with the lilt of far-off birdsong were the only noises that broke the quiet tension between the two women that lasted, in all likelihood, only a few minutes but felt like years to the sweating knight. Adora half expected, any second now, for Catra to throw up her hands and declare the whole mission off. “I can’t believe Glimmer gave me this  _ idiot! _ ” She would scream, lips curling and eyes full of scorn. “How  _ stupid _ can a person be?!” The knight was seconds from opening her mouth, a heartbeat away from blurting out yet another apology and simply turning Swift Wind back to the wreckage of her childhood home, a true and utter failure like she always feared, when a steady voice to her left resumed. 

“Every territory’s leader has reports he or she must deliver to Angella that summarize what’s been happening. Births, deaths, how much the crops would yield, any crimes that have been committed. Those kinds of things.” From the brunette’s tone, it was as if Adora’s admission had never happened. She would have doubted it herself, except for the fact that Catra sounded infinitesimally softer. “Nothing noticeable, but he lessened the profits the city gathered, or left out details of just how often the citizens are punished...or how cruelly. He has such a strong hold on these people, even more so than the control he has over Mother and myself. He once wiped out a whole family because he suspected they were going to overthrow him. He told Angella they all died of an illness. He made the entire village quarantine for a month to uphold the lie. Anyone caught outside was flogged on their first offence. Their second...” She swallowed. “People were too afraid to do anything then, and now, with the raids, it’s all just gotten so much worse. Even if their testimony held weight against him, no one would say a word...On top of that, wild, violent strangers have been coming in and out of the Keep too, and always within  _ days _ of an attack. They show up, break a few windows or harass a few girls, leave, and then the reports will come in...death, destruction, awful things.” 

The trees were beginning to thin at this point, and through a break in the leaves Adora spied a collection of tall, imposing buildings capped with waving banners. A red dragon on a black field, mid roar, its head thrown back in attack. Their trek through the Whispering Woods was drawing to a close. Catra pulled her horse short under the shadow of a tall pine, clucking her tongue at her horse and stroking its mane as it fussed. Adora drew up alongside, waiting for the princess’s direction. 

“You’ll go in first through the gate. Tell them you’re looking for Scorpia, and you’re here for a job. The soldiers standing watch will not ask too many questions, they know not to. Once you find Scorpia, do what you must to secure a position. Any kind will do, but it will be better if you can get something within the castle, a guard maybe.” It was as if Catra was slipping on a disguise and becoming someone new. She sat straighter in the saddle, her posture commanding, her shoulders proud. Even her voice took on a new shift as well, her diction crisp, full of rule and expectation.  _ This.  _ This  _ is a princess. _

“And if she does not have one?” Adora was a little surprised to hear her own pitch alter in response to the inflection of power radiating off the woman beside her. Catra blinked her mismatched eyes at the knight once, twice, and then nodded.  _ I can be someone else, too.  _

“Scorpia is...well, I wouldn’t say we are friends, but she will move you into the Keep if I request it.” Adora opened her mouth to interrupt, but Catra answered her question before it could be uttered. “It won’t put me under any suspicion, if that is what you are worried about.” She glanced over to the knight, one eyebrow raised in anticipation of any further questions. At Adora’s nod, she continued. “I will wait fifteen minutes from when you pass through the portcullis, and then enter myself. I think it would raise more questions if  _ you _ were to follow  _ me _ , than the other way around. I have things I must do in the town for Mother. Spaced out like this, I doubt anyone will determine we know one another before any proper introductions are made.” The brunette carried herself like royalty, but Adora’s eyes were on her hands. Catra was digging a thumb into her palm, rubbing tiny circles into the lined flesh. “Once you have been placed in the Keep, I will find you and we will determine how to proceed. Certain roles afford certain liberties, and we will not know what areas of the castle you will be expected to be seen in and what areas you will be forbidden from until that role is decided.” The skin on her palm where her thumb made its endless paces looked irritated and red. 

“So...for now, this is farewell?” 

Catra the princess sighed and disappeared, and the figure at Adora’s side became a little more familiar. Catra, the woman who loved her people and her mother, who was willing to risk life and limb to take back her country and save its citizens from a nefarious tyrant. Catra, who looked very brave, very tired, and very, very small in the dimness of the trees that surrounded her. “For now. Be careful, Adora.” 

The knight dismounted and approached the mounted princess, her sapphire eyes never breaking from the brown and blue above her. With utmost tenderness, Adora took the hand Catra was agitating, and held it near her face. “And you, Catra.” Her lips were dry and chapped, she was well aware of that fact, but even she knew a knight, a  _ good  _ knight, treated a lady with honor and respect. She pressed a light kiss to the back of Catra’s hand, bowed once, and walked out of the woods, Swift Wind’s reins clutched tightly in a grasp that most certainly did not shake.

~***~

“Captain Scorpia?” A very tall,  _ very _ muscular young woman with a shocking plume of white hair turned round at the summons, a confused expression drawn across a face that looked like it was made for smiling. She did as Adora approached, pausing mid conversation with a scrawny blond youth to straighten her considerable height and address the newcomer. “I was told you were the woman to speak to about a job?” The knight clasped a fist to her chest and bowed slightly. “Adora, o-of Grayskull.” 

The larger soldier - jealousy and admiration twisted in Adora’s gut; she could not decide if she was envious of the inches Scorpia held over her, or appreciative - heartily laughed over Adora’s courteousness, completely missing her stutter. “Oh I’m not worth all that! Just call me Scorpia!” She took the blonde’s hand in one of her meaty ones, wringing the feeling from Adora’s fingers. She elbowed the young man she was speaking to before the knight interrupted, sending him sideways and stumbling into the ground. “Oh geez! Kyle I’m so sorry! Here let’s get you dusted off!” She bodily scooped him off the flagstones paving the courtyard in which the three of them stood and placed him on his unsteady feet. “Alright! Adora, you said? Let’s hit the training yard and see what you’re made of.” 

Catra had been right. It was easy for Adora to make her way through the guards and past the portcullis, to blend half-truths with white lies and keep her heart from beating out of her chest. Fright Zone was smaller than Bright Moon’s capital, and it took her no time at all to wind her way through the dark, dismal town. Where the first was brilliant with joy, brilliance and song and  _ life _ bursting from every stone, here, it was like color had been removed, seeping from the very people until everything was uniform gray. Adora did not see a single smile as she wound Swift Wind up to the Keep until she met the Captain of the Guard. It awoke a shifting disquiet in her gut, to think that a certain vibrant split-eyed princess had come of age in so lifeless a place, and only renewed the promise the knight had made as she knelt in the Whispering Woods.  _ I will give my all to keep you safe.  _

The words echoed in her brain as Scorpia tossed her a wooden sword and stepped into a ready position. Adora blinked, and suddenly she was a child, and it was an older, brown haired woman who leveled a weapon in her direction.  _ “Feet shoulder width apart, Adora.”  _ Mara had said.  _ “Eyes on your opponent’s core. Observe closely enough, and you can predict where their body will move before their mind has even decided.”  _ Adora blinked again, and the worn face of her teacher morphed into the friendly visage of a white-haired stranger, open and ready to see what she could give.

With a shout, Adora lifted the weapon above her head and charged forward, intent on crashing the wood into the captain’s scalp.  _ Thunk! _ The taller woman’s weapon clashed into hers, her impressive arms bracketing her face as she gave the blonde a cheery grin. Adora returned the smile with a growl and shoved her back to disengage and try a new attack. A swooping arch meant to gut Scorpia’s belly, had the swords been steel instead of wood, was decided the next best maneuver, and Adora moved just so. Again their blades met, Scorpia a touch too quick for the assault to land. 

As the two women danced around each other, the courtyard around them started to fill with people. Guards young and old gathered to watch their captain spar with the newcomer and offer cheering support. A rousing cry went up when Scorpia knocked Adora back several paces with a well-placed kick to the stomach, but it quickly morphed into sharp hisses of sympathy when the attack was returned with a shout and a shove that sent Scorpia tumbling to the ground. She jumped right back to her feet faster than seemed possible for anyone with that many inches, but the blonde still crowed internally at the brief glower darkening her opponent’s face. 

Sweat was dripping into Adora’s eyes by now, and her shoulders ached from the repeated blows. The only positive was that Scorpia looked as worn as she felt. The elegant swoop of her white hair was mussed and plastered to her shining forehead. She blew a few strands out of her sight, flushed but still unwaveringly buoyant. “You ready  _ -pant-  _ to quit yet?” She heaved, leaning on her knees. 

Adora’s braid smacked her in the chin, she shook her head so quickly. “Not a chance!” She leapt forward, the encouragement and jeers of the surrounding guards ringing in her ears as she held the sword before her and aimed it at Scorpia’s chest. Seconds before the wooden instruments crashed, Adora feinted, whipping her blade to the right. The captain caught the ruse but had to twist her body unnaturally in order to block the blow, left hand canted over the right to bring her sword alongside her ribcage, the pommel level with her eyes.  _ Just where I want you.  _ Adora twisted their interlocked weapons, lifting Scopria’s up and knocking it out of her hands. It spun in a graceful arc and landed, five feet away in the dirt, as Adora pressed her tip in the hollow of her opponent’s throat. 

All was quiet across the training grounds. The two women stared at each other, and for a moment Adora thought the captain was going to punch her across the face. But then Scorpia pushed the sword out of her way and wrapped her massive arms around the knight, pulling her up in a massive bear hug as the soldiers around them erupted into applause. Two young men rushed forward, the first the same frail-looking blond with scrawny legs from before, the second much more impressive, muscle-bound with dark eyes and hair, his exposed arms criss-crossed with old scars. 

“Wow, Scorpia!” The lanky solider squeaked, his eyes as big as saucers. “That was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it!” He turned to grin at Adora, gesturing first to himself and then to his larger companion. “I’m Kyle, and this is Rogelio. How did you learn to move like that?” 

The knight scratched the back of her head, a little embarrassed at all the attention. “I didn’t realize we’d draw a crowd.” She returned Kyle’s smile with a wave. “Adora, and uh, I had a really good teacher?” 

Scorpia leaned heavily against the nearby wall, wiping sweat off her brow as her expansive chest heaved. “Oof! Well, I tell you what, Adora!” She swallowed, grinning as she caught her breath. “I haven’t fought this hard since Rogelio here bet Kyle a kiss that he could beat me in an arm-wrestling contest!” She laughed and stood to clasp a hand on Adora’s shoulder, clueless to the sputtering of the short guard and the bright red face of the other. “We could use more guards like you. The hours are long and the pay’s only okay, but we stick together and take care of each other. It does a person good, I think, to be a part of something bigger than themselves, and I’m thinking you feel the same way.” The blonde almost felt overwhelmed by the larger soldier, her bright, beaming face filled with so much welcome acceptance it vaulted her consciousness back to the throne room of Bright Moon. Jubilant shouts of  _ She-Ra, She-Ra you’ve returned  _ filled her ears and the same foreboding filled her heart. 

There was no Glimmer to rescue her this time, though, and with an almighty struggle Adora surfaced in the present, awakening to return Scorpia’s smile. “It would be an honor to serve alongside someone as skilled as you. There’s much I could learn from you.” The captain’s happy face threatened to disrupt her calm, but the blonde managed. “When can I start?” 

Scorpia huffed and pushed back a platinum lock. “Does right now work?” She chuckled. “I can give you a tour, show you where to lodge your horse and stow your belongings. You look like you’ve traveled a ways, so I can let you rest up in the dorms before we put you to work.” She walked over to stroke Swift Wind’s nose. “Hi cutie,” she murmured to the horse. “Aren’t you sweet?” She sighed. “We’ve been a little thin in the ranks recently. We’ll put you on guard duty for the time being, nothing much more than patrol, but if you do well I can place you in the Keep. Lord Hordak, he expects the best out of us. Show me you can give your best, and good things are guaranteed!” Adora nodded and, reins in hand, followed the captain out of the courtyard and towards the stables. As she turned, she swore she caught a glimpse of brown curls and the flash of a dress disappearing around the corner, but when they reached the bend, there was no one there. 

Scorpia was an excellent, if loquacious, guide to the Fright Zone Keep. She kept up a steady stream of historical facts concerning the castle, gossipy tidbits involving various citizens or soldiers, and general background information she thought Adora would enjoy as the two wandered through the baileys and barracks. Kyle and Rogelio tagged along as well, the scrawny young man supplying additional flavor when he thought Scorpia’s assessment was not up to snuff. The taller of the two guards supplied no such conversation, only a growling chuckle when his partner inevitably tripped every three to five minutes.

Adora hummed, casting about for an unsuspicious way to bring up the inhabitants of the Keep. ”You spoke of Lord Hordak earlier. Do any other nobles live in the castle? Is he married? Any children?”

Scorpia held open a door to what looked like a mess hall and ushered the group through as Adora spoke. Several guards sat at long wooden tables eating and laughing with one another. All greeted the four as they passed each gathering, most toasting to their white-haired boss and she saluting in return. “Well, there’s Princess Catra, and her mother, Lady Weaver.” 

“You mean  _ Shadow _ Weaver,” Kyle muttered. 

“ _ Kyle! _ ” Scorpia looked beside herself, while Rogelio just wheezed over a chair. 

“What?! She’s always  _ lurking _ in corners, just waiting in the dark to catch you in the middle of something she thinks you shouldn’t be doing! And that mask! She never takes it off!” He shuddered and leaned up to whisper in Adora’s ear. “Some of us think she doesn’t even have a  _ face _ !” 

The blonde failed to repress the shiver that crawled up her spine at the frightful words.  _ And this is the woman who raised Catra?!  _ “Gosh, if that’s the mother, I’m afraid of what the daughter’s like!” She prayed her voice sounded normal.

It worked. “The princess? Oh she’s great! We didn’t get off on the right foot to start, she was pretty upset when we first met. Hordak promoted me to fill a spot in the Keep’s numbers. I think someone left to be closer to their family, and I think that really upset Catra. But we’re close now, I’m pretty sure! She didn’t groan the last time I called her ‘Wildcat,’ and that, my friend, is progress!” Adora must have looked a little shocked, because with a wave Scorpia continued. “Oh I’ve lived in the Fright Zone all my life! I don’t think Catra was really aware of me most of the time, different social circles and all that. It’s crazy to think, though, that my grand uncle, or maybe it was my great-grand uncle? Anyway, the Keep used to be his, until he died without an heir and Lord Hordak’s family claimed the territory!...I lost my train of thought...oh yeah! Catra! She’s great, don’t worry Adora, I’m sure you’re going to be friends!”

_ Stars, I certainly hope so.  _

~***~

Scorpia started Adora on night patrol, walking the city’s streets while the whole world slept. It was peaceful and calm, and did little to quell the disquiet the knight felt roiling under her skin. The longer Catra was alone in the Keep, the longer it would take to complete the mission. Staring up at the unfamiliar stars twinkling above her head filled with restless thoughts, Adora felt small and useless. She felt a little better when Bow returned on the third night, covered in dirt and with a touch less brilliance in his shining brown eyes. His cousin, a blacksmith, lived close to the gate and provided the perfect cover for the young man’s arrival. “I’m apprenticing! Somebody here is always complaining in his letters about needing an extra pair of hands to help with orders!”

“I regret the minute I ever let you step foot into my shop,” his cousin laughed goodnaturedly. Adora made sure to check in on them at the start of her evening rounds, their smiling faces illuminated in the hearth as they closed up for the night filling her heart with enough serenity to last until morning. The stars, she found, weren’t so cold or distant then. She did not see Catra once during this period.

Around noon on the sixth day, Scorpia awoke Adora with exciting news. “There’s a vacancy in the Keep! Lord Hordak told me to find him a guard ready to fill the position by this afternoon. He’s not big on details, so I’m not sure who’s leaving or why or what the role is going to be, but I’m certain you’re just the woman for it!” The captain waited impatiently as the blonde buckled Mara’s armor over her body, bouncing back and forth on her toes and fiddling her thumbs in great excitement. “I’ve got to say, we’re really lucky you have your own set! Our armory only has a few chainmail shirts to spare right now. Depending on what Lord Hordak wants you for, I don’t know if we would have had what you needed!” The shorter woman smiled faintly.  _ It still feels like hers.  _

The halls of the Keep were still and silent as Scorpia guided Adora to the throne room to meet the castle’s overseer. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight the moment the knight passed through the imposing front doors, and it was not until the pair approached the entryway to the chamber and heard the sounds of frantic shouting that Adora recognized that something was very,  _ very _ wrong. Just to the left of the doors stood Rogelio, stiff as a board and terror radiating off every inch of his person. Scorpia extended a hand to rest on his shoulder, the beginning of his name forming on her lips, but an anguished cry tore through the three of them and silenced any conversation.

“It’s not his fault!”  _ Catra?  _ “Please! I...I tricked him, I wanted some peace and I--”

“Enough!” A second voice cut through the first. It was male, smooth and timbrous, setting Adora’s every cell on edge. “As a ruler, you must learn that your actions have consequences for others.” There was the sound of heavy boots descending stairs, silence, and then what could have been a quiet, dismissive scoff. “Clearly, this one wasn’t enough to control your flighty tendencies. It’s high time we employ someone else, someone better apt to keep you under control.” 

Light footsteps echoed throughout the chamber, rapidly approaching the doors, and with a swirl of skirts Catra entered the hall in which Scorpia, Rogelio, and Adora stood frozen. The princess’s chest heaved with barely-restrained emotion; the blue and brown of her eyes shone with tears. The knight watched the violence rage over her features, and was certain the brunette was going to win...had not a second person also exited the throne room and approached Catra. 

It was Kyle, his shoulders slumped and his pale face gray with weariness. He looked around at his congregated friends and offered a melancholic smile to all that did not reach his eyes. “H-he’s sending me to patrol the border with the rest of Bright Moon’s scouts.” His chest expanded with a deep inhale. Adora watched as he balled his shaking hands into fists and willed them to stillness. “There’s, uh, there’s been a lot of casualties in their numbers recently. What with all the...the attacks.” His voice broke on the last word, as well as his face, but in a flash it was obscured by a mass of chestnut curls as Catra threw her arms around the young man and he buried himself in her embrace. The pair swayed on the spot, the blond’s hands fisting in the back of the princess’s dress as his thin shoulders moved in barely suppressed cries. By the time he calmed, their rotation brought Catra about face to Adora. The knight spied, peering at her through Kyle’s wispy locks, one brilliant cobalt eye shot through with red and brimming with pain. It rooted her to the spot, and would have kept her there forevermore if Rogelio had not approached and laid a massive hand on Catra’s shoulder, breaking the spell she had cast on Adora. 

Fishing a white handkerchief from a pocket at her waist, the brunette offered the plain linen to Kyle, dabbing at her own eyes with the corner of her sleeve. “When I am queen, you are coming to Halfmoon. Both of you.” She laid one hand atop Rogelio’s and with the other took a hold of Kyle’s not currently mopping his face. “You will never have to suffer in this miserable hell a moment longer...I will find a way. I won’t abandon you to this.” Catra pressed her lips together, overcome, and with hurried steps walked away from the two young men. 

It was all the privacy they were going to get. Kyle had to tilt his head back to meet the other soldier’s gaze, and for several moments, a look was all that passed between them. Rogelio’s face twisted, and for a heartbeat, it looked like he was going to pull the smaller man into his arms...but instead, he did what he had with Catra, and his large palm descended on the junction of the blond’s shoulder and neck. 

“Yeah, I know.” Kyle smiled, genuine and true this time. “I won’t be gone long….I’ll see you soon, ‘Helio.” He canted his head to place his cheek atop the back of the guard’s hand. Adora had only known both men for a few days, but her heart wanted to break at the scene before her. She felt that by witnessing, she infringed on something sacred and intimate, and turned her face away. 

But that meant Catra was now in her line of sight, and that Adora beheld Kyle’s farewell. His back was straight and his head held high as he approached the princess, the very figure of dignity. He clapped a fist to his chest and bowed deeply at the waist. “Your Highness. It has been an honor.” His voice only quavered a little. Standing back up, he nodded to Scorpia and Adora, and marched out of the hall. When he exited, Rogelio walked to Catra and stood before her, face smooth and unreadable. The young woman’s eyes moved between the soldier’s, lips parted, like she was searching for something to say in his expression. But then he, too, bowed with a grunt and left, three pairs of eyes watching him as he disappeared.

A ragged gasp brought the knight’s and the captain’s attention back to the princess. Catra was hunched over, all ten fingers woven in her wild hair, knuckles white as she fisted the brown strands and struggled to breathe around the dry sobs that wracked her form. Immediately Scorpia rushed forward. “Wildcat! C’mon, c’mon listen to my voice,  _ inhale _ , exhale...There’s a girl...Good, good, you’re doing wonderful.” The platinum-haired woman rubbed soothing circles over the brunette’s back as she lulled Catra through her agony. Adora could not even move a muscle.  _ Stupid Adora. If you had done better with Scorpia, you would have gotten a position at the castle sooner and maybe all of this could have been avoided and Catra wouldn’t be crying.  _ Those mismatched eyes lifted and met hers again, and for a heartbeat the split irises became uniform gray as Mara’s voice filled the knight’s head.  _ Do better, Adora. Why aren’t you doing better?  _

“Captain Scorpia.” The command rang from the throne room, the same voice from before, deeply male and authoritative. “Enter.” 

The tall woman’s eyes went wide. She stood straight and made to move toward the door before turning back, reaching out to take the princess into her arms, indecision warping her features. “Wildcat…” she whispered.

Catra shook her head frantically and lifted her palms, pushing away the captain before she had a chance to touch her again. “Go,” the brunette murmured, her voice barely reaching Adora’s ears. “I…”

“ _ Captain! _ ” 

Scorpia jumped, her armor clattering loudly and sending an echo through the hall. “Y-yes sir! Right away sir!” She turned and grabbed Adora’s upper arm. “Okay, okay...you got this, Adora. Just, uh...answer all his questions and, and, be polite, and you’ll be fine!” The white-haired woman tried to smile encouragingly down at the knight, but her audience was not paying attention.

_ No, no I can’t leave her like this.  _

“Adora, we can’t keep him waiting.” Scorpia released her grip and marched into the hall. The blonde stared at the princess, her body burning with the need to act, to protect, but her mind so unsure.  _ What do I do?  _ As if she heard the knight’s silent call, Catra looked over and caught her gaze. The same plea she gave Scorpia formed over her lips, now directed at the blonde.  _ “Go!”  _ she mouthed. Adora nodded jerkily and followed the taller woman, the feel of mismatched eyes upon her back pursuing her through the doors and into the throne room.

The first thing Adora noticed about Lord Primus Hordak was  _ color _ , or, rather, the lack thereof. He was indescribably pale, almost bloodless, his long coiled hair so fine and fair Adora suspected it was not there at all, that if she touched it her fingers would pass through the substanceless fibers. Though seated, he looked as tall as Scorpia, and about as broad too. He was currently leaning on his fist, his chin propped up as he listened to the captain stutter through her greeting. His sight flickered up when Adora entered the hall, his bored eyes meeting hers and assessing her face with detached interest. He sighed, lifting off his hand to address the captain, but then Adora drew closer and he looked, truly  _ looked _ at her. What bare color was in his cheeks vanished as she approached the throne. When the knight pulled herself out of a respectful bow, his light green eyes were on the ensignia splayed over Mara’s chestplate. 

“She-Ra…” He scrutinized her features, having finished scouring her person. “You...are not She-Ra.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Who are you? And how do you come to possess a hero’s standard?”

“My name is Adora. Mara of Grayskull, who bore the title ‘She-Ra,’ was my caretaker and teacher. She found me when I was a child, my parents dead and I alone, forsaken to the terrors of the world. She raised me on the way of the sword, trained me to be a force of goodness and strength to whoever would have need of me.” She swallowed. She did not recognize the person speaking, loud and brave and demanding to be heard. “I heard many whispers of battle and war on my travels. This country needs She-Ra again, but...I care little for the battles of the past. I care little for Bright Moon’s glory. All I want is to make a name for  _ myself. _ ” Adora slammed her fist against the starburst decorating the armor’s front. “The crest I wear makes no claim on my intentions. It only fuels my desire to prove myself, to separate myself from she who wore it before me.” 

A sardonic smile tugged at the edges of Lord Hordak’s mouth. “And what of the original? Your  _ Mara. _ What does she have to say of your declaration?” One eyebrow lifted in expectation. 

“Mara is dead. By my hand.” Both brows raised at this, the lord’s eyes widening slightly in surprise. Scorpia even gasped. “I buried her, and burned her home down before I made my way here.” The admission burned at the corners of Adora’s eyes and threatened to spill over.  _ Even if I wasn’t the one who wielded the blade, it’s still my fault. If I was better, Mara would still be alive.  _ She took a deep breath and continued. “I’m done living in the shadow of another’s mistakes. If you will have me, I will serve you and your cause loyally and give you my all.” She bowed again, praying he could not see the tears blurring her vision. 

Silence filled the throne room as Lord Hordak considered the knight’s words and Adora’s heart beat so loudly she thought everyone in the entire Keep must hear it. Wood creaked as the tall man stood and walked towards the young woman. Adora felt cold fingers grip her chin and turn her face up. “My ancestors were greedy, they fought and shed blood and gave their lives for their insatiable desire for power. I’m like you Adora, the past mistakes of our ‘betters’,” he spat the word from his mouth like it was poison, “do not dictate my future.” He turned to Scopria. “Captain, excellent selection. This knight will be perfect for the role I need fulfilled.” He let go of Adora and sat back down on the throne. “You may have met the princess in your time here, She-Ra.” The name fell mockingly from his tongue. “Catra, of our neighboring kingdom Halfmoon, and her mother Lady Weaver are residents here in the Keep. I do my best to protect the princess, but it can be...difficult to keep her under control. I just had to let go of her previous guard for failing in this very task. But you, Adora, I think will do quite nicely.” He nodded sharply to the two women. “Dismissed.” 

In a daze, the knight and the captain exited into the hall, the large doors of the throne room slamming shut behind them with a grave thud. A tiny noise of surprise alerted Adora to the presence of a third person, and with a start she saw Catra, and realized the princess had remained in the hall the entire conversation. If she had remained, she must have heard the blonde’s declaration, and her admission of responsibility in Mara’s death. The fear in the brunette’s wide eyes confirmed her suspicion, as too did the frantic steps backward Catra took when Adora approached her. “Catra...let me explain.” The sound of her boots slamming on the stones when she turned tail and ran echoed against the walls and reverberated between Adora’s ribs. 

~***~

The sun was starting to set when Adora finally found Catra again. She stood on the rampart between the southmost bastions, leaning into an embrasure and watching the courtyard below. The knight approached slowly, afraid the brunette would bolt again, but it seemed she had stopped running for now. Indeed, she did not acknowledge the other woman’s presence, choosing instead to keep watching the scene below. 

The yard was empty, various detritus of soldiers and fighters clustered in corners or piled haphazardly to be dealt with tomorrow. Empty, except for one person, who was attacking a battle mannequin with single-minded ferocity. His grunts and exhales filtered up to Adora’s ears, and it took a moment for her to recognize the pitch.  _ Rogelio.  _

“He doesn’t talk, really.” Catra’s voice was flat. “None of us are sure what happened, but he showed up one day, wandering the streets, quiet as a church mouse. I was maybe...five? He hardly slept, ate even less. Mother wanted nothing to do with him, but the other soldiers thought he had a chance. I didn’t see it myself...not until Kyle came into his life. Our old physician was his grandfather, and Kyle would go along with him on local calls. ‘Helio came down with a fever and the guards scrapped some money together to purchase a tonic...Kyle took one look at him, tugged on his grandfather’s sleeve, and said ‘Papa, I’m not going to let him die. I’m going to be his friend’.” The princess laughed. It was more melancholic than happy, but it had a low, musical timber that trilled in Adora’s brain, bouncing off her mind’s walls and multiplying in volume until every neuron vibrated with the sound. “They were inseparable after that, speaking their secret, made-up language only the two of them could understand...I thought the physician was going to murder Kyle when he told him he wanted to be a knight instead of a healer, but,” she shrugged. “With ‘Helio by his side, Kyle was unstoppable. They both were. I…” her voice became soft, hushed, like the princess was only speaking to herself. Adora suspected, even if she had not been present, the scene would have continued unchanged, Catra summoning the words into being to make them real and true. That if she did not, the lives she witnessed would go unaccounted for, and their hardships and trials be for naught. “I never saw two people so very much in love before. It went beyond words, beyond simple feelings...it was as if by the one existing, it made the other better...if I didn’t watch it grow as I myself grew, I wouldn’t believe it existed...this place is too dark for anything so beautiful to grow.” 

Adora’s eyes drifted over the profile of the woman at her side.  _ I must disagree.  _ Catra must have felt the weight of her gaze, for she turned her head, her irises full of sky and earth holding the knight fast. 

“Why am I telling you all this? You are a stranger to me.” She paused, swallowing. Adora watched the muscles in her throat bob, and felt her own mouth grow dry. “You’ve known me all of a...no not even a week, and yet you’re still here. ” Her mismatched eyes burned into the taller woman, demanding the truth. An unhinged laugh escaped her mouth.“And what you said to Hordak! You killed someone?! I know that that’s likely in your line of work, but...I just don’t know what is true and what is a lie. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but...You still pledged yourself to my cause and my people...people who aren’t even your own. Why? Who are you?”

The knight blinked multiple times, winded by such ferocity in so small a person. The sentences began to pour out of her, spelled into being by the woman before her. Adora in the Fright Zone was very different from the Adora who buried Mara, but there were a few things that she could say with certainty. “My name is Adora. I’m twenty-three years old. My favorite color is red, and my favorite food is a beef stew Mara would make for me once a year on my birthday.” Catra looked confused, so Adora just spoke faster. “Glimmer and Bow are the first two friends I ever made, and I would like you to be the third. I’ve always wanted to be a knight, because I think those with strength and power have a responsibility to do good in the world. To help people, to defend people, it’s all I’ve ever known. I want to help you and defend your people because you also feel the same way. You’re aren’t content to sit by and let others suffer when you have the power to make a change for the better.” 

Catra looked bewildered at the confession. “And you’re telling me all this, because…?”

Adora smiled hesitantly, nervousness bubbling in her chest even worse than before. “You know how old I am, and things I like, and really my whole reason for existing.” She bumped the dazed brunette with her shoulder. “Now we’re not strangers.” 

A very cautious grin stretched over Catra’s face and she huffed, shaking her head as she turned away to look down upon the courtyard. “Okay, fine, we’re not strangers anymore.” She returned the jostle. “But you don’t get to know  _ my _ favorite color just yet.” 

“...is it red too?” 

“Shut up, Adora.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the seraphic Amitola12, a true BAMF and boss, for beta-ing my nonsense!


	4. Truth is measured by the temperature of the room

Adora insisted on escorting Catra back to her room that night, after the sun slipped below the horizon and only the soft dazzling of the far-off stars lit their way off the parapets. Entering the Keep would usher the pair into true, solid darkness, so the knight was forced to ignite a torch to guide them. The princess kept her gaze on Adora at her task, unblinking and focused. She watched as rough fingers struck steel against flint, watched as dark brows contracted in concentration, watched as sparks flashed and caught the oil-soaked rag wrapped around the fat end of the wood. The warrior looked down at Catra, the blue-gray of her eyes deepening in the dancing flames until they were indistinguishable from the space between the stars bracketing her tall form. 

“Lead the way.” Adora’s voice was quiet, a far cry from the authoritative tone she had addressed Primus Hordak with only hours before. Catra allowed herself one more cursory glance of her new bodyguard, and turned to lead the way. 

Unlike the pain-stakingly uncomfortable ride from the Whispering Woods to the Fright Zone’s main gate, where Catra could  _ feel _ Adora bursting with questions with every plod of her horse’s step, the walk to her room was eerily silent. It was as if the knight’s soul had left her body, stranding only an empty husk to trudge wordlessly along the dark halls. The thought made the brunette shiver. She was lonely enough as it was, even more so now that yet another friend had been exiled as a direct result of her actions; she did not need anything more to make herself feel worse. 

Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to jump and twist sharply to the right, but it was only Adora. The knight had one large palm extended, hovering in the air, inches away from Catra’s shoulder. She looked like she was trying to decide whether or not she should - or even  _ could _ \- lay her hand on the princess, to offer support or comfort. Catra could see the question plain as day on her face. She smiled, but the corners barely made an indent in her cheeks. “Just cold,” she lied. She rubbed her upper arms to add to the facade, shaking in an exaggerated fashion. “It’s always freezing in here at night.”

Adora hummed in response and stopped, chewing on her lower lip as she thought for a moment. Wordlessly, she reached up and unclipped the cape adorning her shoulders before sweeping it over Catra, nestling the worn fabric around her neck. She took her time smoothing over the worst of the wrinkles, focusing on the creases criss-crossing over the princess’s upper arms. “I’ll try to remember next time,” she grinned shyly. “It must be much worse than what you’re used to, but for now I hope this will do.” It was far too long for the shorter woman, the excess pooling around her feet and threatening to trip her, but Catra felt instantly warmed. By the cloak or the gesture she was not sure, but at this point she was too tired to care either way. Instead, she returned her mind’s attention to the warrior by her side and attempted to decipher, yet again, just who this person who had pledged her sword and her life to Halfmoon really was. 

As the pair resumed their walk to the princess’s room, her thoughts immediately turned to Adora’s declaration to Hordak.  _ So she’s killed someone. _ Realistically, a small part of Catra already acknowledged that this was a probability. Knights were in the business of warfare and bloodshed; to think Adora’s hands were unstained was naive. But the way her face looked upon exiting the throne room...Catra suspected there was more to the story than the blonde initially shared to the lord. Adora’s declaration to the Fright Zone leader was not satisfactory, nor was the answer shared between the two of them in private, not by a long shot. But then again, the brunette wondered, what right did she have to ask the warrior for her whole life’s story? 

_Do I even want to know, though?_ _Will it change anything?_ Disquiet coiled in her belly; she was already requesting so much of Adora just by asking the woman to be here, to put her life on the line. True, the knight had volunteered to assist, but the princess could not help but to feel some responsibility for the risks the woman was facing. She blinked, trying to clear her head. _She offered. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and accept that Adora wants to help._ She frowned and clutched the cloak tighter to her figure. _You’re not invincible._ It sounded too much like an admonishment, so she resumed picking over the overheard conversation. 

_ Mara... _ Who was this person, Catra pondered. A caregiver, a teacher, apparently a knight of some renown if she had earned a title. The moniker “She-Ra” rang dimly in the back of her skull. She had heard it before, she was sure of it, but with the noise of all the other thoughts swirling about, she could not follow the thread of recognition back to its source. When Adora spoke to her on the parapet, glossing over her favorite food, it was spoken with love in her voice.  _ Can you love someone, and yet be the reason for their death?  _ Her mother’s face flashed before her eyes, and Catra had her answer. But the affirmation only left her with more questions, and as the two turned a corner, the brunette found herself struggling to dam the outpouring of queries. 

The flood dried up the moment Catra spotted light from another torch at the other end of the hall.  _ Night patrol.  _ Panicking, she shoved Adora sideways into a small alcove and tucked herself beside the warrior’s brawny figure, wrapping her hand over the blonde’s and pushing the torch into the stony wall to smother the light. She pressed a finger to her lips and tilted her head to listen for approaching footfalls. It took the two soldiers a while to make their way past their hiding place, and with each passing second Catra felt more silly.  _ You’re a goddamned princess walking with her bodyguard. There’s nothing suspicious about that.  _ Yet she could not silence the paranoia that Hordak would find any contact with the knight untoward, and used it to war against her mental admonishment until the guards passed.

They walked closer, and Catra, recognizing the voices, thanked the stars above for her quick action and Adora’s compliance.  _ Grizzlor and Octavia.  _ The first was as mean as he was ugly. Many a time the princess had come across the massive, hairy soldier in the training grounds, “educating” a much smaller recruit with a fist to their face or a boot to their stomach. Octavia was more cunning than brutish in her displays of cruel strength, and this made her much worse in Catra’s eyes. She sabotaged the equipment her rivals used during sparring just to watch with thinly-veiled delight as it fell apart in their hands. Their embarrassment hurt enough, but it set them up for real harm. Catra walked too many cadets to the infirmary following one-on-one’s with the frightening woman. There was no definitive proof tying the misdeeds to the knave - fraying straps or loosened buckles were attested to the stupidity of the new or careless - but everyone knew the fault lay on Octavia’s shoulders. 

Their quiet chatter grew fainter as the soldiers rounded the corner Adora and Catra had just taken. The princess waited until it completely disappeared before she relaxed, slumping against the wall behind her. The blonde cleared her throat. “Was that entirely necessary?”

Catra scowled and glared up at Adora, momentarily disarmed by the mischievous grin. “I don’t want to give Hordak any more reason to isolate me! Who knows what guards are loyal to him. Any one of them could be a spy!” 

The warrior’s smile faltered a touch and, unless Catra’s eyes were deceiving her in the faint light, a deep flush spread over the other woman’s cheeks. “Okay...but can I have my hand back?” 

If she had been in her right mind, and not completely bewildered by embarrassment, Catra would not have ripped her hand away from Adora’s, or smacked it against the ash-covered surface behind her, or yowled in a cacophonous combination of pain and chagrin. But she wasn’t, and so she did, and spent the next several moments with her heart pounding in her ears, gripped with terror that the pair would be discovered and her mission would be over before it properly began. Nothing happened, though; no guards stormed their hiding spot, no Hordak or Weaver slipped from the shadows. Once Catra was certain they weren’t going to be seized, it was all she could do to get as far away from Adora as possible.  _ Just, move your feet, your room is down the hall, five more steps and then there will be a nice, sturdy door between you and -- _

“Wait, hold on I...I think there’s something here?” The object of her distress spoke, freezing Catra with her arm outstretched and palm tantalizingly close to the latch. Solitude - peaceful, silent, marvelously free of any more opportunities for her to make a fool of herself in front of one frustrating blonde - was snatched away. With a second but much quieter groan, the princess turned to see Adora crouched down, level with the spot where Catra tamped down their torch. The sunset glow of the still living embers danced mesmerizingly over the knight’s face, igniting her from within. The shorter woman drew closer and felt a separate heat radiating from the sapphire eyes as she squinted down at the jostled stones. “There’s a...a space here…” Adora passed the light to Catra to twitch her fingers in the gap surrounding one larger rock. The brunette bent down to join her, and as one they watched it slowly shift from the warrior’s ministrations, and with a soft “Ah!” Adora pulled the stone loose. She beamed, twisting to cast her smile on Catra. “This will make a perfect hiding spot, if we must communicate in writing to one another, or have to smuggle some evidence out of the Keep? It could be sequestered here,” she whispered, patting the shallow crevice made by the rock’s absence, “until we can deliver it to Bow!”

Catra joined her touch with Adora’s to map out the clandestine area. It was just large enough to hold a handful of papers or a couple of letters.  _ Anything more, and it would become dangerous.  _ Storing that much collected incriminating information would be hazardous, not to mention downright stupid. She took the stone from the blonde and hefted it back into place, pleased to find it not that difficult to manage. “It’s not too heavy,” she whispered back. She jerked her head up the hallway. “And my room is the next door down. It’ll be simple for me to keep an eye on it, or hide what needs hidden here.” She scanned the alcove, noting the small window seat and scattered pillows offering comfort to whoever chose to linger there. “When we leave a message for one another, we can rearrange the sitting area. Flip over the cushions or move them to one corner or another.” She rested her hand on the rock. Her fingers tingled, still warm from the knight’s skin. “Well done, Adora. You have sharp eyes.” 

The blonde, pulling herself to her feet, stumbled at Catra’s praise. She coughed, hand going to scratch briefly at the back of her neck in a gesture the princess was starting to recognize.  _ She’s flustered. I fluster her.  _ Catra didn’t know what to do with this knowledge. She fisted her skirts and marched to her room, not allowing herself to turn around to see if the other woman followed. The door to her room opened with a loud protest. A small fire crackled in the hearth, kindled by one of the few servants Hordak kept around. The light it cast was dim, but enough for Catra to make out the faint blush still coloring Adora’s skin.  _ Does she know her ears turn her favorite color when she’s embarrassed?  _

The princess and the knight stared at one another for a few moments, only the sounds of wood splintering in the flame’s heat breaking the tangible silence. It was just long enough for both women to feel the need to speak, and they proceeded to do so simultaneously. 

“Catra, I - ”

“Adora, you don’t - ”

Two sheepish grins flashed and met in the doorway, two quiet giggles tangled and made a pleasant harmony. Catra smoothed her wrinkled dress as Adora squared her shoulders, chuckle fading as she fixed her blue-gray eyes on the smaller woman. Whatever she was going to say stayed on her tongue. “Goodnight, Catra.”

“Goodnight, Adora.” 

She expected the gesture this time. Adora did not have to reach out for Catra’s hand so much as catch it when it was extended. The first kiss in the Whispering Woods startled the brunette, and she was too scattered to appreciate the warm lips on her skin, the callouses beneath her fingertips. She was prepared for the second. This time, she zeroed in on the wispy, fair hairs at the back of Adora’s neck, too short to weave into her braid. They looked as fine and delicate as gossamer. When the blonde left and Catra closed the door, she reached up to touch the base of her skull, to finger her own tiny curls clustered there.  _ What do hers feel like? Are they softer?  _ Her arm’s movement was impeded by the fabric still wrapped around her shoulders, and with a faint cry Catra realized she forgot to give Adora her cloak back. 

The princess pulled the article tighter across her shoulders. She hesitated for a moment...but she was alone here; there was none in the privacy of this space to judge her. She had nothing to fear in solitude but her own mind. She buried her nose in the fabric and inhaled. It smelled of smoke and earth and iron. She gathered the cloth and breathed in once more.  _ There _ . Beneath the more visceral scents dwelled something quieter. It had the headiness of sweat, blended with notes of tang and sweetness. Catra removed it from her person and held it closer to the firelight. It was very old, if the stains and fraying edges were any clue to go by. Despite Adora’s protests, it was also incredibly soft.  _ Perhaps it belonged to Mara as well.  _

Tears pricked at the corners of the princess’s eyes. She wiped them away quickly with the heel of her hand, but they kept spilling. Very suddenly, so fast Catra did not have time to brace her body for the impact, the events of the day came crashing down around her, and she cried. She had seen too much suffering on her friends’ faces, witnessed too much sadness, and stars above she was so,  _ so _ tired. She dragged herself atop her bed and curled into a ball around the cape, so worn she lacked the energy to go through the motions of her typical nightly routine. Instead, she mourned until she slept, and as she slept she dreamed, of dead mothers and bloodied comrades and a pair of lonely, brilliant orbs in a stoic face, watching her from a place she could not reach. 

Catra awoke with puffy eyes and hair she knew without checking in the mirror was tangled and snarled into unreasonable knots. She sighed long and deep, feeling her lungs expand with air thick from last night’s fire, and rolled stiffly out of the tight circle she kept herself in all night. The windows in her room were thin, barely the width of her hand, but expanded the full length of the wall, letting in far too much light for her to tolerate at the time being. With bleary, blind sight, she stripped off the previous day’s dress and selected another from her wardrobe at random, no mind paid to the decision. She returned to the bed and gathered up Adora’s cloak.  _ I ought to return this to her _ . She buried her face in it again.  _ Tomorrow.  _

The princess no sooner hung up the worn cape alongside her fine gowns and shut the furniture’s doors when the door to her room creaked open, revealing Lady Weaver standing in the frame. “Catrina, you never had a mind for chess,” she stated without preamble as she entered her daughter’s bed chambers. Her heart leapt to her throat.  _ She hardly ever uses my full name.  _ “That was starkly evident in the light of yesterday’s events.” She cupped the brunette’s face, thumb swiping softly over her freckled cheek. “You are a mere pawn, when I need you to be a queen.” 

Catra gave no reply. An answer would be required and expected, eventually, only when her mother delivered the necessary quota of derisive admonishment to her daughter. For now, she must be seen and not heard. 

The cane made a soft  _ tick, tick _ as it struck across the flagstones. Lady Weaver settled herself on the small, plush stool at Catra’s vanity, the only additional piece of furniture outfitting her otherwise sparse room. She addressed the princess’s reflection in the mirror. “You must think ahead, you simple child. You have seen the power Lord Hordak wields, and yet you challenge his authority. You act surprised, but how else is he to respond? This is no one’s fault but your own. Your carelessness, your reckless behavior, your inability to control your emotions:  _ this _ is what has caused such suffering...Not Hordak.  _ You... _ How many more lives must be lost before you understand this?” Catra watched tiny flickers of movement behind her mother’s mask as she assessed the brunette from head to toe. The frail woman turned to face her and sighed dramatically, her voice grave. “Look at the state you are in.” She gestured to the floor at her feet, sweeping her robe out of the way. “Sit. Though you are almost of age, I suppose the trials of motherhood never cease.” 

She picked up a fine toothed comb off the tabletop as Catra approached. It was a delicate, beautiful thing, intricately carved out of bone and presented to the princess for her thirteenth birthday by its current wielder. She cherished it, a physical item that verified her mother’s distant, difficult affection for her. She settled on her knees at the indicated spot, back straight and chin high. Anxiety pooled just below her sternum.  _ There is more to follow. She can’t be done scolding me so soon.  _

Lady Weaver worked with focused determination, attacking the brown snarls with such ruthless vigor Catra had half a mind to recommend her to Scorpia’s corps. “I have tried to instruct you, but you never listen to my lessons. Stubborn.” _Yank._ “Petulant.” _Tug._ Each word loosened another tangle. “Weak.” _Snap._ Part of the comb clattered to the floor and came to rest by her left knee. Its glossy surface shone in the morning rays. “What did I do wrong, Catrina? I took you away from those who would hurt us, those who blame us for your father’s death. I found someone to harbor us in our time of need. Hordak is strong. He has power and resources. Is this not what motherhood demands of me?” Catra screwed her face tight. _What are demands when all I wanted from you was a shred of tenderness?_ Guilt twisted with the fear in her chest before the thought reached completion. She knew the trials Weaver had endured for their sakes, for _her_ sake. The scales would never balance out that debt. Perhaps this was what drove her to free Halfmoon so much. Not a selfless, heroic desire to liberate her people, but the prayers of a lonely child. _Nothing I can do will ever repay what you sacrificed, but at least let me try?_ “You have never wanted for food or shelter or even silly frivolities like this trinket in my hand. And still,” the woman jerked through a particularly ferocious knot. The brunette’s eyes watered as the gesture nearly pulled the roots from her scalp, but she dared not cry out. “Still you disrespect me _and_ Lord Hordak.”

Weaver fell silent as she parted Catra’s hair, sectioning off the tamed curls from territory yet to be conquered by her hand. Her voice was quiet when she resumed, reverberating faintly against her mask. “You must learn to control yourself, Catrina. You are the true leader of your people, a queen by birth and by decree. It is past time for you to behave as such.” The sound of the comb’s teeth offered a gentle  _ shush  _ against her mother’s words. “What happened is unfortunate. I know you cared for those guards. Perhaps you even considered them to be your companions. But such weakness is for children. Set aside the affections of your youth and  _ focus _ . Lord Hordak has more allies than you can possibly imagine, child. His will is absolute. You cannot stand alone against him with none but poor excuses for soldiers.” 

_ But I’m not alone _ , Catra wanted to scoff.  _ I have Glimmer and Bow...and Adora... _ Her thoughts trailed away uneasily. She was already putting too much faith in the knight and her Bright Moon friends. She wanted to believe in them, in Adora, but her mother’s conversation tangled in the precarious hope she had tentatively built for their little team. It was already fragile, and the longer the spindly woman spoke, the more it began to crumble. 

“You are a disappointment.” Lady Weaver might have been commenting on the weather, for all the impassivity her tone contained. Catra did not even blink. They were words she told herself every day. Sometimes in her own voice, sometimes in her mother’s. “But not unsalvageable, so long as you choose to commit yourself to the lessons I’ve tried these past twenty-odd years to instill in your thick skull. If not...I fear Kyle and Lonnie will not be the last to flee your company. It makes me mourn for the future of poor Halfmoon.” 

Catra’s knees protested from lengthened contact against the hard floor. Her scalp ached and her spine was stiff. She probably bit clean through her tongue from holding back her words at this point, but enough was enough. “I was not the one to banish Kyle! I did not attack Lonnie’s father or his town!” Her voice caught in her throat. She could not address the subject of her natal homeland. She feared Hordak and his power. Concern for her citizens and their plight kept her up at night, if worries over her mission to free them did not beat that insomnia to the punch. Deep beneath all these layers lay a bone-chilling terror.  _ What if I’m a poor queen?  _ She had no experience ruling. In her far-off daydreams of an emancipated Halfmoon, it did not matter. The princess’s devotion to the cause would be enough to make up for any ineptitudes. Her people would learn to trust her, as she would learn to lead. She hoped for this, just as she hoped for a bright future. It was small and flimsy and sputtered like a candle flame drowning in its pooled wax, but she cherished it nonetheless. 

The woman snapped the comb down on the countertop. Catra dimly noted that yet another tooth had broken at the impact. “You speak as if these things were out of your control! How many times must I repeat myself? The only person you have to blame for these outcomes is yourself, Catrina. Do you think, when an illness comes through the town, Lord Hordak punishes the physicians for his people’s deaths? Or, if the crops are bad and the peasants are starving, Lord Hordak curses the heavens for not providing hospitable weather? No.” She thumped a gnarled fist to her chest. “He looks inward, sees what he can do to ease the citizens’ suffering. As a  _ true _ leader does. You leave much to be desired in this aspect.”

_ Bullshit. He is the pestilence that wrecks havoc amongst the people. He is the plague that causes them to nearly starve every winter. They suffer at his hand and his hand alone. I may be foolish, but only because I’ve abided by such treatment for so long.  _ Catra wanted to say, if only she could be sure her voice would not break when used. It was easy to be brave in the comfort of her own mind. Uttering such treasonous words was another matter.

“That new guard of yours.” Every muscle in Catra’s body froze at the turn in conversation.  _ How does she even know Adora? Were we spotted last night? Does she suspect something? Does Hordak? _ “She holds such potential. If only she were my child, maybe events would have turned out differently. Maybe then I would not be forced to spend precious time wasting my breath with lessons that long should have been accepted.” One long, crooked finger stroked the length of a curl. She leaned low, speaking over Catra’s shoulder. “I wonder how long she will last, until you push her away too. This…  _ Adora.” _

Catra hated how the name sounded in her mother’s mouth, slick and oily and poisonous. She hated the thought of Weaver, regarding Adora from the shadows. How often had she been observed, or the both them, watched behind a mask hiding a monster’s face?

“Now, stop your sniveling. I’ll not see you reduced to such emotions over such insignificance again. We all must accept the consequences of our actions, some more than others.” Standing up, she moved around her kneeling daughter and put a hand under her chin. The mid-morning sun flashed over her gilded mask. “Queen Angella’s tournament is coming up soon. You are expected...but you are not like the Princess Glimmer. You can only pretend to be good for so long. How long can you keep up the facade? A day?  _ An hour?  _ Angella is cunning. She will take one look at you and see you are no future queen. Her whole court will. No one will be your ally. It will be so much easier if you just  _ accept _ the  _ way things are _ . Stop fighting. Stop defying the man who has kept us safe for nigh two decades.” Her cold hands stroked down the brunette’s inflamed cheeks. “Understand this: I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you. I am the only person you can trust, Catrina. Please stop pushing me away.” 

Catra told herself she would. She would stop everything she was doing, dismiss Adora from her employ, write to Glimmer and tell her to burn all her letters, send Bow packing back to Bright Moon, if only her mother would say those three words she always longed for her to say.  _ I love you.  _ But nothing followed the older woman’s sentence but icy palms releasing her face and she knew in her heart she would never hear them spoken.  _ If she loved me, she would have said it by now. If I was someone  _ worth _ loving.  _

Her task complete, Lady Weaver patted her daughter’s head once more and left, closing the door quietly behind her. For a very long time Catra stayed on her knees with her hands curled limply in her lap, alone but for the faint sounds of the castle stirring to life around her. She stared at her soft palms, the left cradled by the right atop her gowned thighs, and wondered if they were real. She twisted them before her eyes and observed the morning rays carve a path over her lifelines, deepening the creases into inky shadows with detached interest. She rose slowly to her feet, feeling an odd disconnect from her form, like she was watching her movements from afar, and in this dreamlike state made her way to her door. The key felt cold under her fingertips and it shocked her back into her body; twisting it, she felt the mask she wore around her mother begin to slip. The tidal wave of grief she had been fighting since she awoke churned under her restraint. The sound of the lock sliding as she slid it into place broke the final grip she had on her emotions and she crumpled to the floor.

Catra did not weep like before; she refused her body the weakness of openly sobbing, although a few hot, salty tears slipped down her cheeks nonetheless. Instead, she shook so badly she almost completely fell over. She wrapped her fingers in her hair, silky from Shadow Weaver’s attention, and gripped it hard at the roots. A fresh moan bubbled up in her throat and almost broke free from her mouth, but a tiny whimper sliced through it, ushered into being by a harsh yank to the chestnut strands. More sadness spilled from her mismatched orbs, despite her mental pleas not to cry  _ don’t cry do  _ not  _ cry you stupid little bitch _ . Each new tear earned another pull, and soon both her eyes and her scalp ached. The pain steadied her, and after a while her frantic gasping calmed to slow breaths, each punctuated by her mind’s repetitive mantra spoken in Weaver’s tones:  _ Stupid bitch. Stupid little bitch. You can’t do anything right.  _ She felt under control for the moment, but the longer she stayed in this position the more her mother’s words replayed in her ears, and she could feel anxiety build up in her chest yet again. 

Her room felt much too small. Continuing to look down, Catra climbed to her feet, roughly wiping her face with the back of her hand. She sniffed a few times and smoothed down her hair before unlocking her door and yanking it open, striding forward with purposeless intention. The princess was not really aware of where she was going. She was just moving, one foot in front of the other, afraid that when she stopped the constricting fears she was running from would catch up to her and she would not have the strength to fend them off.

Catra’s travels brought her along a curtain wall splitting the Keep and the Fright Zone town. To her left, she could watch the bustling of the villagers as they started the day, sleepily moving about from task to task. Further off, if she squinted, she could spy the Whispering Woods. But the activity on her right was so much more intriguing than a handful of trees.

Adora was in the training yard, her blonde hair tied back in a suitable ponytail, swinging a broadsword in a series of easy, practiced movements. Her brows were furrowed over her eyes, bright even at this distance, and Catra watched, lips parted and mouth dry, as the steel flashed in the morning light. She had been still for too long, the princess knew this, but she couldn’t tear her sight away from the knight, even with the impending breakdown nearing, threatening to overtake her motionless form. She could feel it approach with every heartbeat, each pound in her chest another footstep drawing ever closer, until she could feel it breathing down her neck. She knew what it would say, but the words, still sounding like her mother, chilled her to the bone nonetheless.  _ How long will you last, Adora, before I push you away?  _ Catra gripped the wall separating her and the knight, her knuckles white.  _ How long until you leave me too?  _

Five minutes was all it took for a quick costume change, the elegant skirt exchanged for more convenient trousers, and Catra was entering the courtyard with a shortsword hefted over her shoulder. “Hey Adora,” she called, her voice full of bravado, hopeful that it disguised the quavering she felt in her whole body. “Looks like you need someone to practice with.” The knight lowered her steel and shielded her face with one hand against the sun’s glare, her chest heaving as she gave the brunette a quick once over. The flush of exertion in her cheeks set off the blue of her irises, and the princess found it hard to meet them. “What do you say to a little one-on-one?” 

“Catra. Good morning” She sounded breathless and sweet, colored with a touch of shyness as she tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. Her gaze rested on the weapon in the princess’s grip and she cocked her head, confusion furrowing her forehead. “Do you know how to use that thing?” Her voice was innocent, but the teasing grin splitting her cheeks was anything but. 

“I can handle it,” Catra bared her teeth at the knight, pleased when Adora’s face turned an even brighter crimson. “You just worry about yourself.” She ripped the scabbard off her sword and threw it over her shoulder. She slowly circled her opponent until she was in the center of the courtyard, the long shadows cast by the surrounding walls enveloping her body in a cool embrace. “Your cloak kept me very warm last night.” She paused for a moment, wondering if the edges of proprietary were being skirted a little too close. Then again, she was preparing to cross blades with the woman, so maybe this was not the time for such matters. “Defeat me, and I might consider returning it.” 

Adora twisted her broadsword in front of her face as she turned her body to the brunette’s, closing one eye to squint down its length. She flexed the arm holding the weapon, and Catra’s mouth went a little drier at the muscle rippling under the warrior’s skin. “It’s just a bit of fabric...but I doubt I will lose. Especially to you...Again.” She squared her feet in the dirt and bowed her head, slate irises twinkling. “When you’re ready, Your Highness.” But then she looked, really  _ looked  _ at Catra properly for the first time since she entered the space. The brunette could feel the knight’s gaze roving over her form, how it lingered on the dark circles under her eyes, the faint quiver in her hands. Adora’s shoulders softened and she relaxed out of her readied posture. “Catra, are you--?” But the knight did not get the chance to finish her question. 

Physically, the princess did not have much going for her. She lacked Rogelio’s height. Absent on her small frame was Scorpia’s sheer brawn. Lonnie harbored a brute strength that the brunette knew, no matter her training or diet, she would never possess, even if royal duties posed no obstacle to such a lifestyle. But what Catra knew - and Adora didn’t - was that she was  _ fast _ . So when the blonde lowered her sword a fraction, Catra was there with lightning speed, her weapon level with her shoulder and charging straight for the taller woman. Adora, startled, barely blocked the assault in time, taking a step back to balance the ferocity with which her opponent attacked. 

That was all the advantage Catra’s revelation afforded her. The blonde cracked her neck and pressed her sword forward, no longer on the defensive and keeping the fatal edge from slicing her face, but actively countering. Catra growled and tried to stand her ground, but if the disturbed dirt gathering around her heels and her own weapon slowly descending back upon her was any indication, it was a task she was steadily failing in. She twisted away, her brown hair spanning behind her, and disengaged to dart back and come at Adora again, this time from the left. 

And again she was denied. Adora turned just as quickly and blocked Catra once more. This time, when their swords met, the taller woman did not bear down. Instead, she simply held fast, not returning force against the princess’s weapon, but not giving up any ground either. A suspicious thought flared in Catra’s mind, and with impatience in her voice she spat it out. “You’re holding back!” Adora’s lips twitched out of their fixated scowl, disappearing into a brief, guilty smile. Catra snarled. “You won’t be laughing when I have your back against the dirt!” She threw her whole body behind her grip, practically shoving their entangled steel to Adora’s chest. 

That was the plan, at least, but the knight twisted their blades, spinning them in a circle and drawing them swiftly upward. It looked familiar, and then Catra realized.  _ She used this same move on Scorpia.  _ With a grin she yanked her sword down and to the side, successfully keeping her hold on the pommel. Adora regarded her with narrowed eyes. “You were watching me.” It was not a question. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She did not look away once from the princess’s face. “If you wanted to get beaten by me again so much, you could have just asked.” Catra was pleased when the warrior took an unintentional step back as she launched forward, shortsword at the ready and guttural scream bursting from her chest. 

It did not last long. Adora’s surprised expression disappeared as their weapons clashed, and to Catra’s complete shock, she laughed. Actually  _ laughed _ in the princess’s face. Anger welled up in her belly, made all the more ferocious when she  _ winked.  _ The knight’s eyes reminded Catra of the sky before a storm: volatile, raw, fathomless power barely restrained by wind and distance. She stood before such violence and felt wild herself, almost giddy, as Adora’s gaze crackled along her skin, filling her nostrils with a faint scent of ozone. Was that lightning she saw in her opponent’s swirling pools? Was that thunder she heard, beating in tandem with her own blood? 

_ You’re weak.  _ Her mother’s voice returned en force, drowning out the crash of blade meeting blade.  _ If Adora doesn’t take you seriously as an opponent, she certainly does not consider you a competent leader.  _ Catra stumbled.  _ You are a distraction to her, nothing more. A diversion, until she finds pursuits more worthy of her time.  _ They circled each other, the princess searching desperately for some sign in Adora’s person for a clue, an indication,  _ anything _ to hold as proof against the language filling her veins with Lady Weaver’s ichor. 

“I did not think we would be fighting again so soon,” she called across the courtyard to the brunette. “This can’t be good for my chances in the ranks. Scorpia won’t want to elevate someone who so frequently spars with the princess.” She stood in a patch of sunlight, practically sparkling in the brilliant light. She was too bright, far too bright and beautiful for a place as dark as the Fright Zone. Surely, it was only a matter of time until the knight realized this too.  _ If it wasn’t for me, she could go so much farther...When will you realize this, Adora? When will you leave me, like so many others have done? _

Catra’s heart hardened at the thought, and a growl rose in her throat.  _ Why waste the time? Just leave. Let me  _ rot  _ inside this miserable place with these miserable people.  _ A quiet voice whispered beneath the riotous churning, the same that beckoned her to put quill to parchment and address Crown Princess Glimmer of Bright Moon in the first place. The very same that told the princess she could make a difference, that she could bring happiness and peace to Halfmoon and the Fright Zone by extension, if she would be brave. But Catra did not feel brave right now, staring down this physical embodiment of a star’s luminous radiance. Adora’s light only illuminated her own faults, her own shortcomings, her own innate weaknesses that always surfaced no matter how hard she fought against them. She caught her distorted reflection in her sword’s face, twisted and warped beyond recognition in the metal save for two very different eyes. They narrowed at her, cursing her for daring to behold them. 

The sound of running feet swiftly approaching broke through her reverie, and Catra, dazed, barely lifted her weapon in time. It wasn’t enough, and volley after volley of blows, blocked just in the nick of time, rained down upon the princess. The angle of the sun worked against her, its shine off their combined steel blinding her and confusing her surroundings. She knew Adora was gaining ground against her, but to what end or what direction she could not tell with her vision obscured. When Catra’s back slammed against the wall, knocking the breath out of her lungs, she knew the fight was over. She blinked quickly and tried to huff a good-natured laugh. But her eyes cleared as she opened her mouth, and at the sight before her all faculties of speech failed. 

Adora stood before her, so close Catra could feel her chest press against her own as she breathed heavily. Her right arm was drawn back, sword tip aimed for the princess’s naked throat. Her left hand rested by Catra’s head, causing her to lean over the smaller woman and cage her in place. The knight’s face was so close. Her scars were darker than ever, flushed alongside her cheeks. Catra wondered if they pained her, even now, and her fingers itched to trace over the damaged skin. They were a hairsbreadth from their target when she caught herself, and with a start she pulled her hand quickly to her chest, cradling it like it had been scalded. 

Adora’s stare traced over her face, settling briefly on her lips. “What,” she swallowed. “What was that you said earlier? About  _ my  _ back in the dirt?” She grinned lopsidedly, left eye crinkling and the three lines marring her jaw pulling up at the expression. The need to touch them grew stronger. 

Catra had no excuse for what happened next. The tiny voice still spoke softly, urging her to  _ trust Adora, place your faith in her and yourself _ . But her mother’s voice was far louder, and it drowned out the former, smothering it until all she could hear and feel was  _ weak _ .  _ How long until you leave me too, Adora?  _ Catra’s eyes followed Adora’s, resting on her lips. The knight parted them with a soft intake of breath, her pink tongue darting forward to moisten them. She leaned down a fraction of an inch, her head bent to one side. Catra lifted up on her tiptoes. She was so close, she could feel Adora’s breath hot on her face. 

“Why did you kill Mara?” 

Adora jerked away like she had been burned by Catra’s question. Her sword, tenuously grasped in fingers the princess could see tremble, trailed in the dirt beside her as she took several paces away from the smaller woman. The shock on her face fell away as the flush drained from her cheeks, leaving in its wake a pale, worn, overwhelming expression of guilt. She swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak. 

But that’s the thing about being fast. Over the years, Catra got really, really good at running. Sprinting to meet Lonnie in the Whispering Woods. Racing Kyle, Rogelio, and the other children in the village. But she was best at running  _ away _ . From the guards trying to pen her in her dark and lonely room when her high giggles were deemed too distracting for the Keep’s activities that day. From her mother and her acrimonious, feculent rejoinders that were hard to predict now and nigh impossible in her childhood. From Hordak, and his icy silences that, chameleon-like, turned covetous the older she got, her infantile chubbiness making way to gangly lengths before conceding to feminine curves. So when Catra saw Adora’s lips part, she knew she could not withstand the inevitable outpouring of hatred the warrior was clearly ready to deliver. Despite pushing her, taunting her, goading her into confirming exactly what the brunette suspected - that Adora  _ was _ too good for Catra, that Adora  _ would  _ leave her the second she saw just how stupid and pathetic she truly was - when the time came for the denouement to take place, all Catra reinforced was what her mother accused her of that very morning.  _ You are a disappointment. You are weak.  _ But she was fast, and she was good at running. She did not want to hear what the knight was going to say, so she didn’t. 

“Catra!” Adora’s cry rang out across the courtyard as she sprinted away, sword and scabbard abandoned in her wake. “Catra, wait!” Her leathered heels pattered softly on the castle’s stones, not nearly loud enough to drown out the knight’s demands.  _ Just leave, Adora.  _ Her vision blurred the further she urged her body onwards.  _ They all leave. Why should you be any different?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to the seraphic Amitola12. Go check out her fantastic "Wildcat" fic if greasers and poodle skirts are up your alley!! 
> 
> Chapter title comes from the marvelous podcast "You're Wrong About," specifically the episodes about the D.C. Sniper. (I contain multitudes, my dudes. Go check them out if you want to hear a gay journalist and his tired fellow millennial talk about topics like Disco Demolition Night, Kitty Genovese, and the Janet Jackson Super Bowl Scandal and how that brought about YouTube!)


	5. Let's tell the truth, just for once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from "Death Stranding" by CHVRCHES

_ How did it come to this? _ Adora slumped along the wall of the courtyard, her throat hoarse from calling Catra’s name over and over again. It didn’t do any good. Split eyes wide with fright, open so far the stunning, opposing colors were ringed with fearful white, the princess bolted the second Adora’s sword was lowered. She had been too startled to say anything at first; by the time the blonde found her voice, the brunette had long vanished...How familiar her terror looked to the knight; it hadn’t been so long ago that another young woman beheld her the same.  _ Her eyes weren’t as pretty as Catra’s, though. _ Adora shook herself, banishing the memory and the way it beckoned to her to follow, to come down in the dark and dwell in the same self-hatred she embraced when Mara first began to weaken. 

It felt wrong to think of another while her skin still smouldered along every inch it met with Catra’s body. Adora shoved herself off the wall and climbed the stairs leading out of the arena, intent on scouring the entire Keep to locate the smaller woman.  _ I have to find her. If her mission has any hope of success, we need to be able to communicate. We need to be able to  _ trust _ one another.  _ She frowned and slammed her fist against the hard stones. 

_ Not that there was much to start _ , Adora admitted to herself.  _ But last night... _ The blonde sighed as she recalled the freckled face, the mismatched orbs peering up at her in the darkness, illuminated only by the torch’s flame. Adora did not miss the way Catra’s hands went to the knight’s cloak, to pull it closer over her shoulders, nor did the measured respect filling the princess’s eyes while she listened to the warrior’s plan for their clandestine discovery go unnoticed. She groaned, abandoning her pursuit to collapse against the wall and thread her hands in her hair.  _ Stars, Catra, what happened?  _ They slid out of the wheat locks and down her face, pausing to rest at her mouth. Lightly, she touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. Catra’s skin was soft, what little Adora had touched thus far; whole and undamaged.  _ How much softer are her lips?  _ Blood rushing to her face, the warrior jerked to her feet, shaking her head rapidly, and returned to her previous task, furiously praying that the heat in her cheeks would subside by the time she found the brunette.

She didn’t. The rest of the day proved futile, and Adora returned to her room disheartened and confused. The sight of her cape, folded primly at the end of her bed in the barracks, only made the feelings churn more tumultuously in her gut. She held the bundle close to her roiling stomach and shut her eyes.  _ It has to be what I said. About Mara.  _ She breathed deeply.  _ I owe her the truth. If only I could find her, could speak to her.  _ Cuddling the faded garment, she crawled into bed, resolved to find Catra the next day and tell her  _ everything. Even if she dismisses me after, she deserves to know. _ Shame pricked at the corners of her eyes.  _ No one wants a murderer in their employ. _

_ ~***~ _

“Good morning, Sir Knight.” Adora almost tripped at the formality with which Catra addressed her the next day. “I hope you are well this morning.”

The blonde fumbled with her words as she knotted her hands along the edge of her tunic. She had discovered the princess with her head bent to task, copying over some ancient-looking document onto fresh parchment before the original crumbled into dust. Catra’s face was collected, calm...lifeless. The same mask she wore when they exited the Whispering Woods had returned. She didn’t recognize this person now. Her sense of the camaraderie, the closeness Adora thought they nurtured in the days past withered under the brunette’s indifferent gaze. She glanced furtively around the room, a small recess off of the Keep’s library.  _ Perhaps someone is close by?  _ “I...I am well, Your Highness. Thank you for returning my cloak.”  _ She warned me she couldn’t be too friendly without raising suspicion.  _

The faint smile barely creased the seated woman’s cheeks. “You are welcome.” Catra’s voice was detached. Adora took another look at the space as the brunette returned to her work. The library, too, appeared abandoned. 

“Catra,” the blonde whispered, bending down close to be overheard. “What’s wrong?”  _ Why are you acting like this?  _ “Why did you run away?”  _ What have I done wrong?  _ “Is it - ”

“I appreciate your assistance,” Catra interrupted, her voice at full volume, “but I assure you, Sir Adora, I am capable of performing this alone. I believe Captain Scorpia would be happy for another set of hands in the training grounds, if you are looking for something to fill your time.” The tip of her quill scratched loudly against the paper. It paused, and the princess looked up to take in Adora’s dumbfounded expression. It felt like she was staring  _ through _ the knight, without actually seeing her. The absent tug to her lips returned. “You’re dismissed.” 

Down in the courtyard, Scorpia stuck too many hits for Adora to count, but she was too distracted to even care. “You alright, Adora?” The white-haired woman’s face was furrowed with concern. “Do you want to take a rest? We can’t have you burning out on us before the Bright Moon tourney! You haven’t been here long, but it’s already clear that you’re our best fighter! We need you in tip-top form to win.” The other soldiers watched the knight from the corners of their vision, their faces turning at just the precise moment so they would not meet her eyes. None of them ever would.

~***~

After a few weeks of this treatment from Catra, Adora was ready to pull her hair out. It was like the princess had become a completely different person. It was beyond frustrating. So she took her energy out in different ways. She tested locks and door hinges for detrimental sounds. She measured the distance between the external windows and the hard, unforgiving flagstones of the courtyard. The first row would afford a broken leg, if the jumper wasn’t careful; anything higher would mean certain death. She timed herself - how long did it take her to get from the gatehouse to the barracks? From the kitchens to the throne room? - and timed herself again, a grin flashing over her sweat-stained cheeks when her results were faster than before. A slow itch built up under her skin, growing louder and more persistent as the weeks dragged on. Realistically, she knew it would take time to collect evidence and bring Hordak to justice, but as she lay in bed at night, she burned with toxic thoughts, impotence and frustration poisoning her mind and keeping her awake until the sky streaked pink with dawn’s rays. 

Finally, the knight had had enough. It was time to switch tactics. “I’m your personal guard now, Your Highness,” Adora said, fighting to keep the irritation out of her voice. “I can’t just let you wander alone.”

“I was perfectly fine before you arrived here, Sir Knight.” They were walking through the Fright Zone village to visit some of the townsfolk. Those too busy or infirm to make the journey to the Capitol requested letters and packages be delivered to their loved ones who lived so far away, and the princess was going around collecting the various items. She smiled at an elderly citizen’s wobbly curtsy, bobbing her head in return. “My capability has not changed.”

It infuriated Adora how collected Catra sounded. “No,” she retaliated, taking the small bundle the old woman had pressed into Catra’s hands and stacking it atop the other bits they had collected so far, “but you shouldn’t be unattended. For one, I can count up to seven different locations on this street  _ alone _ where someone could be hiding to attack or kidnap you.” The princess snorted, the first undignified sound Adora heard her utter since their almost-kiss. Encouraged, the blonde pressed her luck. “What kind of knight would I be if I let my charge get snatched from right under my nose?” 

“And what kind of princess would  _ I  _ be if I didn’t prepare all my life for such an attempt?” Catra marched ahead, but the lightness in her step gave Adora hope. 

“And two, do you see how much the people have given you to take with us to the Capital?” Adora shrugged around the small mountain piled in her arms, hands attempting to gesture without dislodging anything.. “Ah! No!” A few letters fluttered from the top despite her best efforts. Catra glanced over her shoulder at the exclamation and chuckled, returning to assist her clumsy companion. “If I’m struggling to carry all this, I would like to see how well  _ you  _ would have fared, trekking this up and down the streets!” 

The princess giggled as she gathered up the fallen items and tucked them back into the precarious assortment. Their eyes met and Adora’s pulse raced.  _ There she is _ . She licked her lips, words springing forth on her tongue. “Catra, I…” but her mismatched gaze slid off of Adora’s face and went over her shoulder, and she froze. Adora turned to see a large, vicious-looking guard just a few steps behind them.  _ Octavia _ . Scorpia had introduced them during Adora’s first week at the Keep, and the blonde didn’t need the hairs on the back of her neck, standing at attention, to tell her that this woman was  _ bad news.  _ She noticed Adora and Catra and leered at the pair, saluting derisively before sauntering into a nearby bar. 

The knight watched until Octavia disappeared from view, frowning the entire time. When she turned to speak to Catra again, her heart sank. The mask had returned, settled too familiarly over the smaller woman’s lovely features. Undaunted, Adora tried again. “Catra, I - ”

“You should return to the Keep, Sir Adora.” Catra’s voice carried the length of the street, and even though they were physically inches apart, the knight never felt so far away. “There are only a few more homes I must visit, and as you can see, there are guards everywhere.” The only indication that anything had changed was the flinty steel flashing in her blue and brown eyes. “I am perfectly safe.” Without another word, she spun on her heel and walked away, leaving the truth Adora longed to confess to fester in her mouth. 

~***~

_ Okay, so she  _ is _ being watched.  _ Her mind flitted to the alcove by Catra’s room, and the hidden station tucked behind the stones.  _ It’s one way to test its efficacy.  _ Adora bought a scrap of parchment off of a vendor in the town, using the meager salary her position allotted, and snagged a quill and ink off of an empty desk in the Keep’s library. Tongue wedged firmly between her teeth, she scratched a hasty message:

_ C _

_ Are you being followed? I have been wanting to tell you the truth involving my caregiver, but you are avoiding me. Are you afraid of me?  _ (Adora scratched out this last sentence)  _ If you are concerned about us being seen together, respond to this message and we can determine a place where we can converse unobserved.  _

_ A  _

According to Scorpia, the Fright Zone corps were rather thin in numbers, so despite her promotion and elevated status, Adora volunteered for night patrol once a week. On her next shift through the Keep, her footsteps echoing along the empty stone corridors, the knight slipped into the small recess and fished the note from her breast pocket. The paper was warm from close contact with her skin. As silently and quickly as she was capable, the blonde lifted the stone away from its space, stowed the message, and tucked the rock back into place amongst its neighbors. Furtive task complete, she took in the window seat, decorated with three frivolous pillows.  _ I must make it obvious to Catra, but not so ridiculous someone suspects something.  _ After several atrocious attempts, the cushions were stacked one atop the other against the window, and Adora was satisfied. 

She had to wait another long, tedious, infuriating week before she could sneak into the alcove and read Catra’s response. Heart hammering against her ribcage, Adora uncovered the space, ears alert for the footsteps of approaching guards. On the flipside of her message presented two lines in the same elegant script she recognized from the brunette’s letter to Glimmer, which was a good thing, considering it contained no addressee or closing signature.

_ This is only for emergencies. Do not waste it again.  _

Adora growled as she crumpled up the scrap and held it to her torch’s fire. It sputtered as it consumed the parchment and she hissed when the fire licked at her fingertips. Her eyes bore into the wall; only a few feet of stone separated her and the slumbering princess.  _ Talk to me, Catra.  _ There was no way the smaller woman could possibly hear her thoughts, yet Adora prayed she would listen. Understand. Communicate.  _ Please.  _

~***~

The direct approach did not work, nor did writing secret messages. Teasing and joking the princess failed, and mirroring her aloof, unaffected distance seemed to only be affecting Adora. Despite all of her best efforts, every attempt to pry off the mask and reveal the woman she had just started to get to know proved utterly, hopelessly fruitless. At least Catra allowed the knight to escort her to the dining hall on the early mornings following her night shifts. Adora supposed her exhausted self was easier for Catra to tolerate than one fully in control of her faculties. She tried not to let the thought curdle as she followed the smaller woman, eyes blearily locked onto the shining chestnut waves just before her. All was still in the castle as the pair moved in silence.

When they entered the room, Catra froze and Adora, barely operational in a semi-conscious haze, nearly stumbled into her. The table was typically empty at this hour. The mornings would follow as such: the knight would draw out the princess’s chair as she collected a small breakfast and, after seeing her charge comfortably seated, Adora would be dismissed. Adora suspected the brunette enjoyed the peace the solitude provided her, a time and place to collect herself before the day’s demands began their toll. Usually, the only people they would come across were other night guards returning to their beds or the morning shift beginning their rounds; no one else. But this morning, there was a Someone Else positioned at the head, and she turned her gilded face towards the two women in a silent greeting.

“G-good morning, Mother,” Only a tiny stutter betrayed Catra’s surprise at the hall’s additional occupant. Her curtsy was smooth and her walk was steady as she approached Lady Weaver to place a dry kiss to where Adora supposed her cheek would be. “I did not expect to see you this close to dawn.” 

“I need to discuss Queen Angella’s jubilee with you, Catra.” Up till now, Adora and Lady Weaver had had very little interaction. They passed occasionally in the courtyards or the kitchen. Each exchange occurred without words, only a bow on the knight’s part and a shallow nod from the older woman. But Adora swore she felt the eye holes of the mask follow her as she walked away. It frightened her to be alone with this person. True, the stories Bow and Glimmer told her on their journey to the Fright Zone were just that - stories - but it did not take much imagination for the blonde to summon the things they told around the fire, voices hushed into deadly whispers. She barely repressed a shudder as she watched her withered hand cup Catra’s face, every molecule inside her screaming to grab the princess and run,  _ run, get out of there _ . 

“Yes,” Catra replied, settling at her mother’s right side and leaning to pour herself a glass of juice. “Only a week until I leave out. Scorpia and Rogelio will be joining the party, along with a few others. Adora too, of course.” She gestured towards the doorway where the knight was still frozen. Even from this distance Adora saw the anxiety etched over her face.  _ I don’t know what she is planning,  _ her mismatched eyes seem to plead.  _ Don’t go.  _ She visibly relaxed when Adora finally joined them at the table. Catra continued. “Perhaps a few villagers and other soldiers, but I doubt we will be many in number.” 

“I have noticed you have been applying yourself diligently to your studies,” Lady Weaver responded. Her voice was oily and smooth, akin to the sound a snake’s belly made as it moved across the earth. “Keep this up, and you may yet make a...favorable impression on the Bright Moon court.” Adora felt Catra shift beside her. Her freckled cheeks were flushed from the praise, but her left hand was twisting the edge of her fabric belt under the table's surface, threatening to fray the thing into oblivion. Adora’s own was only a few inches away, but the distance appeared colossal.  _ Will Weaver be able to tell if I reach out?  _ She repositionined herself under the pretense of facing the woman better, but it placed her body slightly behind the princess’s, Catra’s left shoulder blocking Adora’s right arm from her mother’s vision. 

With tentative fingers, the blonde reached out, resting her palm atop Catra’s fidgeting digits. The brunette inhaled sharply before responding to her mother, the words stumbling on each other as they issued forth.  _ Did she gasp because she was answering Weaver, or because I touched her? _ “Thank you. I only hope I can be a good delegate for you and Lord Hordak. And Halfmoon.” She threaded their hands together and gave Adora’s a light squeeze, like she was afraid of the knight’s touch, of the consequences that might befall her acknowledgment of the comforting brush of her skin. 

“Hmm.” Lady Weaver canted her head slightly, and Adora pictured her eyes would be narrowed if they were at all visible. She thought she saw something inky and dark glittering in the empty sockets, but she could not be sure it was not a trick of the light. “As long as you aren’t  _ actively _ embarrassing me, I suppose your behavior will be acceptable.” Catra’s fingers spasmed under Adora’s palm. “But entertaining and educated conversation alone will not be enough. Your deportment must be impeccable. I’ve contracted a dance instructor from Erelandia to assess your bearing and school you on the current steps in fashion with Bright Moon kingdom. He will be here in a day or so. I’m assuming someone as superficial as Angella will be sure to have at least one trivial ball.” She stood and quick as a flash Adora’s hand was shoved back into her lap and both of Catra’s were visible on the table. The older woman gently stroked her daughter’s hair. “You must dazzle them. Show them that Halfmoon is still a force to be respected and feared.” She leaned forward. If the knight hadn’t been so close, she might not have heard the raspy voice echoing from within the mask. “Remember, Catrina, I need you to be a  _ queen, _ not a  _ pawn. _ ” 

Lady Weaver straightened and made her way behind the two women’s chairs. As she passed Adora, two icy fingertips dragged along her neck, exposed by the sloppy bun she piled her hair into the night before. “You will be joining my daughter, yes?” The speaker fell heavily in the chair to the blonde’s left. “Of course you will...you are her  _ personal _ guard, after all.” The same cold touch from before sketched along the edge of Adora’s jaw. The dark skin of her scars was dull, the nerves deadened from Mara’s attack, but the space between them throbbed with life. It pulsed against Lady Weaver’s caress, giving voice to Adora’s distress when her mouth would not - could not - form the words. “How  _ brave _ you are, child. Risking life and limb for people who amount to little more than strangers to you.” Her voice was as soft as her fingers tracing along the knight’s marred cheek, full to the brim with what sounded like tender concern. 

_ Mara never spoke to me like that... _ The old warrior always treated Adora like she was just another soldier to teach, to train, to raise for the slaughter and the sacrifice and the good of the many. If the blonde suffered injury or pain, it was “Get up Adora. Wipe off those tears, they won’t do you any good. You’re only making it easier for your opponents to kill you.” If her belly raged with hunger and she gagged on its emptiness, it was “Quit your whining, Adora. I’ve never let us starve before, and I’m not planning us on meeting the maker over such a stupid death.” In fact, the young knight did not know Mara possessed anything other than brusque stoicism until the infection took over her capabilities, but even then, she did not know if it was her caretaker crying at her in those garbled, pitiable tones, or the fever. 

Adora blinked rapidly, realizing the frail woman expected a response, her hands now resting serenely in her lap. For all her attention to Catra’s mission -  _ their _ mission - and her devotion to the princess’s safety, she found she couldn’t lie to the mother.“A-all of my life, everything was decided for me. Every day, every action, every meal,” she laughed dryly. “I had no say in my life’s path...but then Mara died. As I buried her, I realized I needed guidance and purpose. Something...some _ one _ I could believe in.” She swallowed, a little taken aback at how easily the truth spilled from her lips. “I found that here.”

“How blessed we are that you have found what you were seeking in our meager little hamlet, then. How lucky my daughter is that she has someone so just and good defending her.” From any other’s mouth, Lady Weaver’s reply would have come across as sarcastic, scathing, biting. But they stoked a tiny pith of warmth in Adora’s chest, fanning it into a tentative ember that took the blonde a few moments to identify.  _ Pride.  _ “You will do us proud by wearing the Fright Zone’s dragon on the tourney’s battle grounds.” The woman leaned against the back of her chair and surveyed the young knight. “It shocks me that someone as egotistical as Mara could have raised someone as  _ benevolent  _ as you, Adora.” 

Adora surged forward so quickly she almost fell out of her seat. “You knew Mara? You knew my teacher?!”  _ Tell me. Everything, anything. Please, I fear I will go mad from all these unanswered questions.  _ She almost seized Lady Weaver’s hands into her own, but realized at the last second just how inappropriate that would be, and jerked them back, blushing furiously. 

The action did not go unnoticed by Catra’s mother, though. She hummed, the sound rebounding from behind the shimmering metal, giving the impression that more than one face dwelt behind the mask. She patted the top of Adora’s head, much like she had done with the princess. “I did...but you look so tired, child. You’ve been awake all night. Catrina, why do you abuse your brave soldier so? How can you begin to expect her to care for you if you exhaust her like this?” She stood and looked down at the knight. This time, it was easy to picture a smile stretching over her lips. “Return to the barracks, Sir Adora, and rest. We can discuss Mara more later...after you return from the Capital.” 

Adora watched Lady Weaver walk slowly out of the dining hall. Once the dull strike of her cane against the stones was no more than faint echo down the passageway, the blonde recalled that there was another person sitting beside her. The princess’s eyes were screwed shut, and her hands were fisted in her lap so tightly her knuckles shone white against the darkness of her skin. “Catra?” She flinched. Her lips parted and she whispered something, but it disappeared in the space between them, unheard. Adora tried again. “Catra?”

“ _ Leave. _ ” Only one syllable, and yet it froze the blonde’s heart with all its power. 

“W-what?” Adora didn’t, couldn’t understand the shift in the smaller woman’s tone.  _ Were we not just holding hands a moment ago?  _ Her mind lingered over the delicate, vulnerable feel of Catra’s fingers laced between her own. 

Catra’s conflicting orbs flashed in her direction, filled with ice. “Do not gape at me like some fish caught on a hook it was too stupid to see. You heard me.  _ Leave. _ Go scamper off to simper after the infamous Lady Weaver. Continue your fawning at her feet as much as your simple little heart desires.” The jaded laugh spewing from her lips tore Adora’s heart asunder. “You do not even see it, do you? How easily she twists and plays all around her like they were her puppets.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “How easily you play into her hands. How quickly you fall for her tricks.” 

Adora scrambled.  _ I thought...I thought... _ But any whispered promise of renewed trust died under Catra’s venomous words. “Catra, no, I just…”

“It must be so nice being so cherished and beloved. The mighty She-Ra,” the princess spat. “Not all of us are lavished by her praise. Not all of us are deemed worthy in her eyes.” Catra pushed herself away from the table, the chair scraping jarringly against the floor. She stood and leaned into Adora’s face, hissing through her teeth. “Not all of us deserve to be treated as such by her attention.” Something glinted in her expression.  _ Is she crying?  _ But Adora didn’t have a chance to look harder, for with a whimper the brunette spun and marched out of the dining hall. The knight remained in her chair, utterly stunned, before dragging her body back to the barracks. She threw herself on the mattress, every bone and muscle and fiber screaming with frustration.

~***~

Two days later, a vexed Adora escorted a recalcitrant Catra to one of the larger, emptier chambers near the gatehouse. The delicate notes of a string instrument being plucked idly greeted them as they approached the room, played by what must have been the dance teacher. He bowed as Catra entered, his voice as withered with age as his creased face. “Your Highness, I am delighted to make your acquaintance.” Catra murmured a polite reply. Adora was too busy bracing herself for a day of being ignored and dismissed to pay attention to the words. “I’m so very pleased to be instructing you today!”

It became clear after several hours that the gentleman was  _ not _ , in fact, so very pleased with his pupil. Her gait? “Perfection!” Her curtsy? “Exquisite!” Her dancing though? “No, no,  _ no!  _ Princess, it’s quarter turn, step, quarter turn,  _ then _ you circle your partner!” Adora suspected his lute would not make it to the end of the lesson intact. 

“It is not so simple when I do not have a partner to fall in line with! There is to be a back and forth between  _ two _ people, yes? I am nearly twenty-one years of age. I am  _ far _ too old to play at make believe!” Catra’s patience, too, was wearing thin. Her tone was becoming increasingly less prim and controlled, bordering on out-right irritated now that she reached iteration number 20 of the same damn steps. “Can’t you put down that shrill thing for two minutes?”

He sputtered and clutched the instrument to his chest. “Absolutely not! How can you be expected to dance without music!” The teacher scanned the room, and his eyes alighted on Adora scowling in the corner. “You! Lady knight!” He snapped his fingers at her in rapid succession, ushering her into the center of the room beside Catra. She was so shocked at the audacity of being summoned, like a dog, she failed to object. “There, Your Highness, now you have a partner. She will lead, you will follow.” Both Adora and Catra opened their mouths, but their stammered protests fell on deaf ears as the elderly man shifted the lute in his arms and began to play. 

The two women stared awkwardly at each other as the opening notes filled the room. Beneath her freckles, Catra’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, and deja vu flooded Adora’s gut.  _ She blushed like that when we were sparring. When we almost... _ The dulcet notes came to a discordant halt, and the teacher bustled over, muttering disarticulated curses under his breath. “Here,” he said gruffly. He grabbed Catra’s right hand and placed it, palm-to-palm, in Adora’s left. Catra’s left went to Adora’s right shoulder under the old man’s direction, and Adora’s right to the delicate curve of Catra’s waist, drawing the pair much closer together than before. The top of the brunette’s head almost brushed the knight’s chin; Adora prayed she did not hear her gulp. She flexed her right fingers, and, like a reflex, Catra stepped even closer. Her face deepened in color. “Now then, let’s try this again!” In the silence before he struck the first chord again, slate orbs met sapphire and topaz gems, neither blinkling in the other’s brilliance. But then the instructor began to play, and a new spell was cast. 

Adora never danced before, but she knew the limits and extents of her body very well. She had to; being a knight did not just involve weaponry and brute strength. It also required in intimate knowledge of self: how to move, how to duck, how to sweep a leg and knock an opponent on their back. Besides this, as much as Adora pretended to sulk and scowl in the corner, she watched every step Catra took like a soldier preparing for the fight of their life. 

As their bodies hesitantly moved in sync, Adora decided that, perhaps, dancing was not so different from fighting. The end results - a satisfied partner versus a defeated foe - might be a bit at odds, but her blood pounded in her veins with the same frantic, excited energy. Her heartbeat increased in volume in her ears, until it almost drowned out the melodious strumming keeping time with their motions. But her own form, its noises and needs and conversation, dulled at the splendor in her arms. Catra...Catra was beautiful. Now that she had a proper partner, she flowed effortlessly through the motions, twisting and spinning until Adora felt dizzy in a kaleidoscope of blue and brown. The knight couldn’t keep her gaze off of the princess, and she sent up a faint prayer that her spatial awareness would prevent them from crashing into the walls. Her dress clung to her shoulders, cut in a swooping neckline that flattered the delicate hollow at the base of her throat and exposed her sharp collarbones. They were pretty, how _ can collarbones be pretty?  _ The wide skirt of her dress flared from her hips and brushed against Adora’s legs each time Catra danced away. Two curls escaped the princess’s bun as they moved, their steps smoother as their misgivings drifted away. 

Each time Catra returned from a flourish or twirl, her hands returning their purchase to Adora’s shoulder and grasp, the blonde’s heart stuttered at the serene expression on her face. Her eyes were half closed in bliss, her smile brilliant in its joy. At one point, the princess caught her staring, and the swell of hope in Adora’s chest almost burst in fear.  _ Is this too much for her? Am I too close? Will she hide from me again?  _ But, happily, miraculously, she grinned even wider, throwing her head back and giggling as the knight gripped her around the waist and hoisted her on her shoulder. Catra’s laughter reverberated in the small chamber and between Adora’s ribs. She could get drunk off the sound. She wanted to. 

“My goodness, ladies!” The instructor’s applause brought Adora back down to earth. “That was splendid, absolutely marvelous! I haven’t seen dancing like that in years!” Catra leaned heavily against the blonde’s chest as she placed her gently back on her feet. The smile lingered over her red cheeks. “Don’t you agree, my lord?” The old man said, looking over Adora’s shoulder and beaming at the new, fourth person in the room. 

“I only hope you will dance like that with me, Princess, at the Keep’s next ball.” Adora instantly knew who spoke, but she still prayed that her senses were wrong. 

They weren’t. Primus Hordak stood in the doorway, so pale it appeared his flesh was transparent and the sun shone through him, not around him. He wore his long hair twisted back into elegant braids and knots, but it only highlighted the sickly green of his eyes as he stared at Catra. As he approached, taking long, confident strides towards them, it felt to Adora that the room was growing smaller, or perhaps he was growing larger. By the time he stood before her, he towered over the brunette, smiling down at her with all his too-white teeth bared. The knight placed one hand at the small of Catra’s back.  _ You are not alone.  _

“I am certain you will be the most beautiful star at Angella’s court.” He sighed dramatically. “Your mother and I will miss you whilst you are away. I trust She-Ra to keep your safety as her top priority?” Again, the title sounded like a derision. Adora struggled to keep the snarl off of her face as she curtly nodded. “Excellent. Well, until then, Princess, take this small token of affection to remember us by.” He stooped down. The knight felt Catra’s muscles tense along her spine as his face approached hers, and cursed her inability to do anything.  _ What good would it do to react?  _ She tried to tell herself.  _ Punching him would just get you exiled. Or worse, executed.  _ She didn’t doubt the man was capable of such cruelty.  _ Just another thing I must apologize to Catra for. Another reason she has to dismiss me. _ Hordak’s lips brushed against the brunette’s cheek, grazing along the clustered spray of freckles. As he retreated, his poisonous snake eyes locked onto Adora’s, and he smirked. “Please, try not to tary in the Capitol. Your mother’s...heart couldn’t stand a long separation.” 

“Nay, my lord.” Adora’s chest swelled with pride.  _ She sounds so strong. You won’t beat us, Primus. You won’t beat  _ her. His leer faltered for just a moment. “If you would excuse us, I must return to my lesson. I still have much to do before I will consider myself presentable to the royal court.” Catra dipped into her most elegant curtsy (Adora following a second too late with a stiff bow) in what anyone could read as a clear finality to the conversation. Hordak’s return gesture was almost as rigid as Adora’s had been, and he stalked out of the room. Catra turned to the knight, her face pale but her gaze firm. “Now, Sir Knight, Master Instructor, let us resume.” 

~***~

“It does a body  _ good _ to travel, don’t you think, Adora?” Scorpia’s powerful cheerfulness, while typically welcome in comparison to the stony silences exhibited by the rest of the Fright Zone corps, was starting to grate after three days on the road. “All that fresh air, the sun on your face, the wind in your hair!” Her broad shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath in. “Isn’t just the greatest?”

“Because you certainly don’t get any air  _ or _ sun  _ or  _ breeze when you train in the courtyards. No, we have to be halfway to nowhere before we come across such luxuries as these!” Catra snarked casually over her shoulder. Adora chuckled before catching Scorpia’s frown and attempted to morph the laugh into a cough. Based on Catra’s growing smirk, she didn’t exactly succeed. The brunette winked at Scorpia before taking a bite of the apple she was currently snacking on. 

“Oh don’t be like that, Wildcat! I haven’t seen you smile this much since Flutterina and her siblings dragged you into that game of keep-away two summers ago, and you bought them all those sticky candies after!” 

The princess stuck her tongue out at the captain. “I had to throw that dress out afterwards, it was covered in so much mud and sugar!” 

“Yeah, but you hated that dress anyway! And, need I remind you of the very words you said to me after?” Scorpia tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Something along the lines of ‘I don’t want to be a leader my people consider aloof and distant? I want to bring them joy?’  _ Hey! _ ” She squealed and rubbed the back of her head, for Catra had just flung what remained of her apple in the other woman’s direction. “Admit it! You enjoyed yourself then and you’re enjoying yourself now!”

Adora had to agree with white-haired woman. The moment their party - consisting of herself, Catra, Scorpia, and a collection of ten other soldiers - crossed the porticulous and entered the Whispering Woods, leaving Hordak and Weaver and all of their poisonous influence behind, waves of relief rolled off the princess’s shoulders. Even from her position on Swift Wind several feet away, Adora felt Catra relax as she tipped her head back and beamed, eyes closed, at the sun-filled sky. Their last few days in the Fright Zone were spent in a flurry of preparation, packing various armor and weapons and finery to dazzle the Bright Moon court, and the knight didn’t have a chance to talk with the princess after the dance lesson. Something had definitely shifted between them, and perhaps it would be here, under the blue sky of the open road, and away from the shadows of the Keep, that Adora would capitulate and finally tell the brunette the truth. 

Watching Catra now, a few paces ahead on her own horse, Adora felt the stirrings of hope spring again in her chest. Maybe the closeness they had built before was gone, but the foundations remained. Maybe they could begin anew on a groundwork of truth. The princess turned back to banter with Scorpia and caught Adora watching her. She blushed and smiled shyly. Adora’s resolve quickened within her at the sight.  _ Before we return to the Fright Zone, I  _ will _ tell Catra about Mara.  _

Moving across the country with this many people, it naturally took longer than when Adora, Glimmer, and Bow first made the trek. She missed their company, their easy banter and affectionate silences. The archer had left for the Capitol about a week before their delegation, ostensibly to set up a stall and sell his cousin’s wares. “There’s going to be so many visiting knights and fighters there, Adora! It’s going to be a great opportunity to show off what we’ve made.” He hefted a bag onto his horse, its contents jangling merrily as he lashed it into place on the saddle. A far-off look came into his eyes and his voice became wistful. “And, I miss Glimmer. We won’t be able to talk much during the actual celebrations, she is going to be too busy with her mom and making sure everything is running smoothly. But if I get there early, I can help out and we can spend some time together.” He sighed. “I really miss her, Adora. What we’re doing here - helping Catra - is incredibly important, but Glimmer and I have never been apart for this long before. When we were kids, she got sent to her aunt’s for reformatory lessons, but after a week she ran away and came back!” He laughed at the memory. “After we stopped hugging and crying, we made a vow that we would never be separated for that long again. It was a dumb promise...but a part of me always hoped I would never have to break it.” He smiled down at the reins he twisted between his fingers. “Once we free Halfmoon and Catra takes her rightful place on the throne, I’m never leaving Glimmer again.” Adora found no words worthy of response, so she gathered Bow into a fierce embrace instead, attempting to convey all that she couldn’t express into the single gesture. As they broke apart, she saw his eyes were misty with tears, and knew her message had been received. 

She heard a growling laugh behind her, and glanced back to see Rogelio, chuckling, offer a hand to Grizzlor at the back of the unit while Octavia looked on. Adora was glad Rogelio decided to come along. She suspected he blamed her in part for what happened to Kyle, but at least he did not consider her with the same jealous, distrustful aloofness the other soldiers did. In fact, he all but ignored Adora, treating any chair or stretch of wall occupied by the blonde knight as empty space. She appreciated his presence nonetheless, especially with Octavia and Grizzlor at her back. They were Hordak’s eyes while Catra was away, she was sure of it, and she hated how she was forced to watch her interactions with the princess for fear of giving anything away. 

But at least Rogelio’s relationship with Catra appeared to be improving. In the main courtyard, when the party was assembling before setting out for the Capitol, the young man had approached Catra quietly, offering no greeting in his rough tongue. He simply took her hand, bowed over it, and joined his place in the ranks with the other guards. But Adora had seen Catra’s face, watched as she cradled her palm to her chest, and witnessed the joyous smile spilling over her cheeks. 

“Okay everybody, we’ll stop here for the night!” Scorpia called, breaking Adora out of her reverie. The party bustled about, offloading blankets from the packhorse and divvying up guard shifts during the night. Adora took charge of the horses, unbuckling their saddles and checking their hooves for any stones. After settling them with some water and grain, she made her way back to the clearing to find Catra tending to the campfire. It flared into life under her ministrations, and Adora had to blink away the blindness the sudden illumination caused her eyes. Her vision cleared to reveal the princess regarding the knight with quirked brows. 

“You’re just standing there staring, Adora. Stop being strange and come help me.”

The blonde shuffled over and descended to her knees beside Catra. “I’m just surprised is all. I thought princesses were only good at...embroidery and...flower arranging,” she teased, leaning close.

Catra snorted. “My needlepoint is atrocious, and even if I ever finished something half decent, I tend to stab myself and bleed all over the fabric.” Her arm brushed against Adora’s side as she reached over to poke at the flames. “A bit macabre as decoration, even for Hordak. And we don’t grow flowers in the Keep’s gardens. Besides, didn’t you spend half a week roughing it with a princess? Why so shocked that we know how to actually be useful?”

Adora grinned. “I guess I don’t really see Glimmer as a princess. It’s hard to find anything remotely royal in someone who looks more like a….a disheveled bunny than a person in the morning.” She laughed. “She wouldn’t even talk to me or Bow until the sun was well into the sky! You’re much more…” Adora choked. She could feel her cheeks glowing, and a pair of mismatched eyes marking her flush.

Catra paused. “I’m so much more  _ what _ , Adora?” 

The blonde swallowed hard.  _ When did we get so close?  _ Her right hand and Catra’s left were only inches apart. Adora opened her mouth to speak, and then - 

“Wildcat! Do you need any help?” One of Scorpia’s massive palms materialized on Catra’s shoulder, followed immediately by her shining face wedging itself between them. “I’m always eager to help out my bestie!” 

Catra closed her eyes and took a long, slow inhale through her nose. “Thanks Scorpia,” she clipped, her tone strained. Sighing quietly, Adora got to her feet and went back to check on the horses.  _ I’m going to have one decent, complete, uninterrupted conversation with Catra if it  _ kills _ me.  _

~***~

Their party, weary and testy and dirty from four nights sleeping on mattresses of dead leaves and fallen twigs, sent up a cheer when Scorpia declared they would be spending the last night of travel at the Inn of the Winged Horse, located just inside the walls of the village Alywyn. It was a quaint, cozy little establishment that warmed Adora’s bones just by looking at it. “From here, it’s about another half day’s ride to the Capitol, but this at least will give us all a chance to really get some good sleep and clean up for the queen,” she intoned as she rolled up her map. “It might be a little tight. I’m guessing some of these local places are full up with other people travelling for the jubilee. As long as no one minds getting cozy, I can get us some beds to sleep in!” She beamed at the faces surrounding her. “Just a warning though: I’m a snuggler!” 

Grizzlor nudged Octavia and whispered something in her ear. She snorted and lifted her chin at the captain. “Yeah that’s a no from us, boss. I’m not big on  _ cuddling. _ ” She jerked her thumb behind her to the dense forest they had just exited. “Griz and I are going to camp out again.”

Scorpia shrugged. “Fine by me! Just remember, we’ll be heading out a little after dawn so we can make it to Angella’s opening feast.” The odious pair nodded, bowed, and slinked off to the shadows. Those remaining trudged gratefully in the direction of real beds as the white-haired woman rubbed her hands together. “Alright team! I’ll go in and get us some lodging! Adora, do you mind bringing the horses to the hostler and getting them settled? 

The blonde hopped off Swift Wind and set about gathering the reins from the packhorse and Scorpia’s and Catra’s steeds. “I’m most excited for a  _ bath _ ,” the brunette extolled as she tossed her lead to Adora. “I don’t think I’m not going to get out until I completely turn into a prune!”  _ Don’t think about the princess naked, do NOT think about the princess naked.  _ Fighting against some very inappropriate thoughts, Adora buried her burning face in Swift Wind’s mane, refusing to budge until the sound of Catra’s chatter faded from her ears. 

By the time Adora finished speaking with the stablehand and saw to her own horse’s comfort, the sun - and the embarrassed color in her cheeks - had begun to set. She gave Swift Wind a final kiss and leaned her forehead against his cheek, breathing in the comforting musk of his skin. There was the sound of someone moving in the neighboring stall. She wouldn’t have minded; other lodgers had come to check on their horses while she was in here, except the person gasped sharply and dropped something metallic. It clattered loudly against the dirt floor, almost drowning out the name they shouted. Almost. 

“Mara?!” Adora jerked up and around Swift Wind’s head, coming face-to-face with the speaker. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, dressed in trousers covered with dust. Large saddlebags lay at her feet; the flap of one was pulled back, revealing chainmail.  _ She must be on her way to tourney as well.  _ Her eyes were fixed on Adora’s chestplate, tracing over the starburst with a hungry, hopeful expression. It faded the moment she took in the blonde’s face. 

“No, no you’re not her.” She sounded defeated. She squinted at Adora. “You’re too young...and too blonde!” Realization dawned on her face. “You must be Adora!” Striding forward, she embraced the knight in a fierce hug, clapping her soundly on the back. From her wiry muscles, the knight figured she must be a fighter as well. Adora faltered, arms stiff at her side. The woman released her, only to slam her palms on Adora’s shoulders, holding her at arms’ distance to survey her. “I knew Mara had a ward. I just didn’t expect such a  _ beast _ to be wearing her armor…” Her jovial expression slipped. “When I saw you, I thought the rumors were just that,  _ rumors, _ and that she...she wasn’t…” 

“No,” Adora whispered. Shame bubbled up in her gut. “I’m...I’m so sorry. She’s not with us anymore.” 

The woman swallowed and cleared her throat. “We fought together, you know? Before you were around, I was her squire. She trained me, made me the knight I am today. Everyone from Salineas to Dryl fears my name, because of Mara.” She extended one large hand. “Serenia.” 

“Adora. But you already figured that much.” 

“You were there when she passed?” At Adora’s nod, something strange passed over Serenia’s face. The blonde thought it would fracture under the weight of the expression; her eyes, lips, nose unable to withstand the pressure. “Was it a good death? A warrior’s death?” 

The young knight closed her eyes and heard Mara’s voice filling her skull. “ _ Hope have you come back for me? Is it my turn now?...Hope we missed something. Where is the enemy getting all these supplies from, and fresh weapons? That traitor Weaver is providing some aid...but her kingdom is too small to do this much. What are we not seeing?” _ There was nothing good about Mara’s death. There was nothing honorable that came from eyes too consumed with ghosts to see the living girl still at her side. There was nothing decent about the way the old teacher’s voice failed her before the end, robbing her of the dignity of speech, even if her last sentences were nonsense to Adora’s ears.  _ My fault. I did this to you, Mara.  _

“We loved her so much...the rest of the Bright Moon guard and I.” Tears threatened to spill down Serenia’s cheeks, but her voice did not crack. “Mara was brave, a good leader, a fucking savage with a sword. But more than that, she was a  _ friend. _ Angella’s friend. Micah’s friend.” She slammed a fist to her chest. “ _ My _ friend,” she whispered through clenched teeth. Adora’s hands began to shake as the warrior continued. _ You had people who loved you, Mara. You didn’t love me, so why didn’t you return to them? _

“Mara was there when King Micah fell, you know. Did she ever talk about it? About all the blood and bodies we stepped over to bring his body back to the queen? She wasn’t the same after that. When we heard she adopted someone, we hoped it would put her back on the right path, bring her back to us. But she just...disappeared after that.”  _ I didn’t know. She never told me.  _ The more Serenia spoke, the harder her face became. Her jaw grew stony, the set of her eyebrows as impenetrable as the Keep’s battlements. “Sure there were whispers. Raiders and marauders descending on towns to slaughter and pillage. Fucking Halfmooners, trying to take back land that was never theirs after a war they lost like cowards.” She spat on the ground. “The mighty She-Ra and her golden-haired prodigy, coming out the mists like gods of old to slay the wicked, only to disappear just as quickly.”  _ Do good, serve the less fortunate. Mara always said we were nothing if we weren’t helping people.  _ Her eyes were daggers, plunging into Adora’s chest. “I’ve heard whispers about you too...about who you serve now.” She walked forward slowly, backing the knight into a corner. Some stray bits of hay filtered down from the rafters as her back hit the wall. 

“She must have thought you were  _ so special. _ ”  _ She didn’t. I’m not.  _ Serenia looked down at Mara’s chestplate again. She reached out a finger to trace the faded blue stone at its center. “She abandoned everything to raise you. Her friends, her homeland.” She dragged her nails down the armor. It almost sounded like screams. “And  _ this _ is how you repay her sacrifice? By throwing in your lot with that monster Primus, and that  _ thing  _ he hides in his castle?” She snarled. “The Halfmoon  _ bitch  _ and the  _ freak _ she calls a daughter?”

_ Don’t talk about Catra that way _ , Adora wanted to say, anger heating her from within.  _ She is a good person, and so am I.  _ But Serenia’s judgment weighed heavily on her tongue, and the words that came out weren’t what she wanted to say. “I’m...I’m not special,” the blonde whispered, more to herself than her accuser. “I don’t know why Mara picked me. I’m j-just trying to do the right thing, what she would be p-proud of.”  _ I’m helping a princess liberate her country. Isn’t that enough? _

Serenia’s derisive laughter filled the stable. “How the  _ fuck  _ is throwing your lot in with a murderer the ‘right’ thing to do? How could she ever be proud of a traitor?”  _ She couldn’t. It’s not enough. I’ll never be enough.  _ She leaned in close, shoving her face into Adora’s. “It should be  _ you _ who’s dead and cold in the ground, not Mara,” she hissed. 

“I wish I was.” 

The other woman pulled back sharply at this, surprise loosening her jaw. She scoffed as she looked Adora over. She opened her mouth, and the knight steeled herself to accept whatever recrimination Serenia lay next upon her responsibility.  _ I deserve it and more. I deserve to be in Mara’s place.  _

“Adora?” She ripped her gaze away from the fighter. Someone stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, her figure illuminated and transformed by the setting sun. Her edges were ringed in brilliant orange and deep pink; the tiny wisps of curls that escaped her braid turned to gold in the dying light. “Scorpia was able to get some food for everyone. Are you joining us?” The eventide vision stepped closer and became Catra, wary as she surveyed the hostility between the two women. “Who’s this?”

Serenia slowly backed away from Adora, expression darkening as she took in the brunette’s two-toned eyes. She sneered. “No one you need to concern yourself with,  _ Princess. _ ” She bowed with an elaborate flourish. “I’ll be seeing you around Adora.” 

They watched in silence as Serenia exited the stable. As soon as she was out of earshot, Catra’s quiet tone trickled in Adora’s ear. “Are you alright?” She turned to face the speaker, but Catra was still watching Serenia’s retreating back. “Who is she?” 

“A friend.” Adora’s voice threatened to stall in her throat. “Of Mara’s.” Catra inhaled quickly through her nose, her fingers spasming lightly at her sides. “She thought I  _ was _ Mara, for a moment.” She watched the princess shuffle her feet and chew on her lower lip, like she was trying to decide what to say or do next. 

Much to her shock, Catra reached out and threaded Adora’s fingers betwixt her own. She squeezed them. “The food is getting cold.” She canted her head in the direction of the tavern. Hand-in-hand, the knight allowed herself to be pulled along behind the princess, eyes fixed again on her dark, chestnut hair. 

~***~

Despite their tarying, the thick stew was, in fact, still hot from the fire, as was the fragrant bread served alongside it. After multiple iterations of cold biscuits and salted meat on the road, Adora welcomed the change with hearty gusto, barely pausing for breath between mouthfuls of the delicious provisions. The other soldiers and the princess fared better from their full, warm bellies, and the evening passed pleasantly as the party talked of their excitement for the jubilee. Some of the more senior guards had been to tournaments and melees before; the oldest among them, his hair and beard flush completely with gray, attended the wedding celebrations for King Micah and Queen Angella thirty years previous. The entire table was silent with awe, drinking in his every word, along with the delectable brew the barmaid kept filling their steins with. Adora listened with wide eyes, as spellbound as the rest of the party...except for a small disquiet, lingering beneath her skin, that told her with intangible words that she was being watched. It made her twitch in her seat, shift and move and glance out of the corner of her vision with growing anxiety so loud it drowned out the completion of the aged soldier’s story, much to her dismay. 

Smiling in a bemused sort of way, Catra waved down a maid and leaned over to say something to her. The young woman nodded, gesturing for the princess to follow her. Catra stood, and immediately the entire table leapt to attention. She laid a calming arm on Rogelio and Scorpia, the two seated closest to her . “Please, return to your meal. I’m retiring early.” 

Scorpia grinned. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, you especially Wildcat! Gotta present our best for the queen tomorrow! Sleep tight!” 

Adora was quieter than the captain. “If you require anything, Your Highness, I’ll just be outside.” She moved around the table to bend over Catra’s hand and kiss it. The brunette’s expression turned shy at the familiar gesture and she accompanied the maid up to her room. Adora watched her leave, refusing to look away until the door to Catra’s room was shut and she disappeared from sight. Sighing, the knight let her gaze drop. She scanned the rest of the tavern over the rim of her glass, idly taking in the assembled travelers, and nearly choked when another’s eyes locked into her own.  _ So that’s why I thought I was being watched. _

Serenia dined on the far end of the space with a small party, all fighters by the look of them. The rest were conversing animatedly over their meal, but not her. The warrior was staring at Adora head on, hardly even blinking, the hatred in her eyes so powerful it made the blonde’s blood turn to ice. The panic, only slightly dulled by the distraction of Catra’s exit, returned with a vengeance. 

_ Your opponent will try many tricks to deceive you or throw you off your confidence _ . Mara’s voice barked, a callback from one of her earliest lessons.  _ Know no fear, Adora. Only a lesser knight falls back on cowardly ruses, to deceive and fool. Do not be a fool, Adora. Be better. If your opponent tries to get in your head, make you doubt yourself or your abilities, know that they see you and mark you as their better.  _

_ I am better _ , Adora answered Serenia’s violent stare. But they weren’t on a battlefield; they were at a bar. The blonde could not prove she was above the warrior’s challenging gaze with a sword in this arena. The only weapon at her disposal was a flagon of beer...a flagon that, thanks to a cheery barkeep, was ubiquitously full no matter how many times Adora drank from it. So she kept drinking, if only to give her fidgeting hands something to do.  _ I will not let you shake me. _ Again and again the stein met her lips, blocking out Serenia, and again and again she found the glass full, its contents sloshing merrily in her grasp.  _ See how little you affect me?  _ Scorpia issued the oldest guard a challenge - who could drink the fastest - and Adora, losing count of how many times her drink was refreshed, called the winner. Maybe the room was spinning when she slammed her glass down, victorious, but Rogelio smiled and clapped a hand to her shoulder, so really it was all worth it. 

By the time Serenia and her party retired - not that she was paying them any attention - Adora was finding it difficult to keep her head elevated. Only she and Scorpia remained in the tavern at that point, and even the white-haired woman was slumped on the table, snoring peacefully away. The knight was, effectively, alone. 

_ “It should be  _ you  _ who’s dead and cold in the ground, not Mara.”  _

“I wish I was,” Adora repeated to the empty room. Her eyes drifted slowly up, up, up, to rest on a very specific door.  _ Catra.  _ She pushed herself to her feet, feeling like her limbs were moving through sand.  _ Catra, I need you to know.  _ It felt more like climbing a mountain than stairs.  _ Catra, I need you to listen.  _ The space between the top of the landing and the princess’s room looked endless.  _ You must know the truth.  _

Adora stood outside the door, one fist raised to knock against it. She didn’t knock. Time passed. She still didn’t knock. An eternity came and went, and still skin did not meet wood.  _ Even if you send me away, I must tell you. _ Her heart beat frantically in her chest.  _ I don’t want you to send me away.  _ She screwed her eyes shut.  _ Please,  _ please _ Catra, have faith in me.  _

“Adora?” 

Catra stood in the open doorway, dressed in a cotton nightgown and wrapped in a blanket. Her hair was wild and there was a crease in her cheek. She never looked more lovely. All the words Adora had been fearing to say tumbled out, tearful and slurred. “I can understand if you never trust me and want me gone from your presence. I know it is at the core of why you have avoided me all these past weeks…” Her voice faltered, and she slunk to her knees. “You are afraid of me, Catra. You’ve been pushing me away and refusing to speak to me and...and...” The face of a young woman flashed in front of her, pale with fear. Blue and brown eyes became a matching pair, brown curls became black. Adora extended one blood splattered hand in her direction, to help her to her feet, but the girl scrambled backwards, screaming.  _ You weren’t screaming when you pushed me against the side of your house. You weren’t screaming when you put your lips on mine. Why are you screaming now?. _ In her haste to put as much distance between herself and the knight, she stepped on her dress, tearing it up to mid-thigh. It fluttered behind her as she scrambled away and Adora watched it, ragged and dirty, instead of the girl.  _ How did it come to this?  _

“Adora?” A pair of warm hands gently squeezing her own brought Adora back to her body. She blinked, and the girl whose town was the last she and Mara saved together became the princess. There was no blood, no far away sounds of pain and mourning, just the pleasant crackling of the large fire burning in the main hearth downstairs. 

“She was...she was hurt during a raid. Mara.” Adora’s voice sounded as hollow as she felt. “Growing up, we always did our best to help the surrounding towns from attacks. We would go out and defend and return home. But they were getting more frequent...more violent. Mara was worried about what all was going on, and I was distracted.” The pretty village girl she was defending, was kissing before the marauders descended. “I didn’t see the sword until it was too late. I didn’t have enough time to block it and protect myself...she pushed me out of the way.” The scene flashed before her eyes. The raider, eyes wild with bloodlust. Mara, on the ground, clutching her side as crimson leaked between her fingers. Adora made sure the man paid the price for the old knight’s pain with his life. “There must have been some kind of poison on the blade. The wound wasn’t that bad, or that deep, but it got infected...it went to her brain and she...she didn’t know who I was, by the end. Couldn’t even talk in the final days.” Her throat felt thick with shame as she swallowed. “I did not wield the weapon that felled her, but I might as well have.” She didn’t have the strength to wipe away the tears that poured down her cheeks.  _ When did I start crying?  _ “You believe me to be a murderer. It’s true,  _ stars _ it’s true, no wonder you’re afraid of me.” She pulled away from Catra’s touch to wrap her arms around her torso, to rock herself back and forth. 

“Adora.” 

The blonde gasped around the sobs wracking her body. “I-I was in this until the v-very end, C-Catra. When I r-read your letters to Glimmer...it gave me so much  _ hope.  _ Something to  _ believe _ in.” She shook her head wildly. “W-what I told your mother was true, don’t you see?”

“Adora!” 

“It was always ‘you  _ have _ to do this’ with M-Mara. ‘You are a knight. You are here to help, and there is nothing else. You  _ are _ n-nothing else’.” She wept. “B-but you, and Halfmoon, I g-got to  _ choose _ you, the first time I think I’ve ever been  _ allowed _ to choose…” She twisted her arms tighter around her body. “And how do I thank you? B-by showing you the  _ w-worst _ of me, by making you  _ fear _ m-me!” 

“ _ Adora! _ ” The sharp exclamation of her name, coupled with the princess’s hands seizing her shoulders, finally stalled the blonde’s rambling. Catra took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not afraid of you, Adora.” 

She hiccuped. “You’re n-not?”

Catra shook her head. At some point in Adora’s scattered confession, she had also slipped to the floor. She ran her palms bracingly along the blonde’s upper arms, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “No,” she murmured. “I’m...I’m afraid of myself. People leave me. Constantly.” She laughed, the sound hollow and without humor. “Their reasons are always different. Sometimes it’s out of their control...but the only constant is  _ me. _ ” Her fingers dug into Adora’s skin. “ _ I’m _ the reason I am alone. Maybe I’m weak, or I’m a bad leader...maybe I’m cursed, like everyone says.” She began to shiver, despite the blanket. “But it’s always because of me. People leave  _ because of me. _ I thought you would be just like all the others…” She shrugged, a mournful smile playing across her lips. “If I got to push you away this time, then maybe it would be a fragment of power I’ve never had before.” Her beautiful, tear-filled eyes met Adora’s. “What if I can’t do this? What if I can’t stand against Hordak? What if I try and try and  _ try,  _ and my people and I are still in his shackles?” 

In the face of Catra’s distress, Adora’s all but vanished.  _ If she was afraid of me, would she be this vulnerable?  _ Even her anxiety couldn’t counter the truth of the brunette’s defenselessness. With infinite gentleness, Adora unlatched her arms and wrapped Catra into her embrace, pressing the smaller woman’s forehead into the crook of her neck. “Didn’t you hear me before?” she breathed into the brown locks. “What I told Weaver was the truth. You are brave, and loyal, and so incredibly strong. Even from reading your letters, your courage shone so brightly.” She pulled away to look the princess in the face. “You  _ will _ see Halfmoon happy and free.” The innumerable drinks must have loosened her tongue, for the words that followed surprised her with their frankness. “You mean so much to me, Catra, and I swear, so long as there is breath in my body, I will never abandon you.”

There really wasn’t anything either could say after that. Swaying, Adora lifted Catra to her feet and bid her goodnight. This time, however, it was the princess who kissed the knight’s hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, my dudes. Anxiety can be a Real Bitch sometimes! 
> 
> Thanks as always to the rapscallion herself, Amitola12, for dealing with my shenanigans and beta-ing my nonsense.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I give Glimmer an axe with the fervent hope that "battle axe bisexual" becomes as popular as "sword lesbian"? Why yes. Yes I did. 
> 
> Did I also make a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0TSEYoNDIYYefVJwxpuLe4?si=aAnzyy5ARWef0r0WfaYzww) for a story set in medieval times? You betcha. Check it out! Sharing music is a love language and if you've gotten to this point, let me say, I love you and you're a good person! 
> 
> HUGE shout out to the luscious amitola12 for beta-reading. Go check out [Her](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/25791568/chapters/62645122) and [The Sleepover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755718/chapters/62548279) for some SERIOUSLY incredible writing!  
> Additional shout out to the exquisite [rokumonshi](https://rokumonshi.tumblr.com) for 1) being an incredible muse and 2) for making [this beautiful art](https://www.dropbox.com/s/buggge7r0hwkg34/adora%20knight%20done.png?dl=0)
> 
> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments feed the angry beast dwelling inside my mortal coil!


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